


The Forest Of Mist And Bone

by MsBluebell



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Ai's Unironically Good Handle On His Emotions, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, At Least Jin Is Okay, Eventual Romance, Everyone Wants To Kidnap Yusaku, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Folklore, Gothic, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Magitech, Multi, Mysticism, No Slowburn We Die In An Inferno, Ryouken's A+ Handle On His Emotions, Someone Just Let Shoichi Sleep, Trans Fujiki Yuusaku, fairytale horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25527352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBluebell/pseuds/MsBluebell
Summary: There's blood in the forest, because no one that's ever entered has ever returned.Except for the six of them, but Yusaku isn't sure how long that will last.(Or, a fairytale au where you really shouldn't go into the woods or a love triangle might happen. But really it's just Networkshipping.)
Relationships: Ai | Ignis/Fujiki Yuusaku, Fujiki Yuusaku & Homura Takeru, Fujiki Yuusaku & Kusanagi Jin, Fujiki Yuusaku & Kusanagi Shouichi, Fujiki Yuusaku/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Ignis - Relationship, Ignis/Origin
Comments: 94
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

There’s blood in the woods. 

It’s a creeping, eerie thing, the forest surrounding their home. It came eleven years ago one day, out of the blue, and it hadn’t left since. A whole forest of twisting trees, wide as waggons and taller than the walls that surrounded Den City, with twisted roots that are rotten all the way down. An ever present threat whose leaves never fell even during the winter, only bleeding red and gold during the fall and becoming a shining silver and white during those frigid months, back to green come spring and summer. The only break from the forest was a straight line that made a road at the city gates, the trees refusing to break onto that one long path and trap them completely from the outside world. 

But, in Yusaku’s experience, even walking the long road isn’t entirely safe. Through the trees refuse to encroach upon the road itself, whenever he steps past the thick walls of their city his skin erupts into goosebumps, and he can feel it watching him, like the eyes of a whole crowd all snapping their attention to him at once. But whatever watched him from beyond remained hidden behind a thick veil of mist, floating lazily and ever present on the forest floor. 

Sometimes, if he’s quiet and he lets himself listen, he can hear voices beckoning him to step beyond the treeline, into the forest. A series of low whispers all echoing in his ears, making him promises he’s not sure they can keep.

  
  
But he’s one of the only ones that can hear those calls.

He tries not to think about why. 

“Yusaku?” He’s interrupted from his musings by a worried Takeru, his friend placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him away from where he stood, frozen, apparently having been caught up in watching the forest without even realizing. The other boy frowns at him, brows knitting together and glasses caught loosely on his nose. “You good?” 

“Yeah…” He nods, looking down at himself. Takeru is one of those that get caught up in the forest’s call too, so he knows what it’s like to be enchanted by it’s whisperings. The both of them have lost hours worth of time before becoming caught up in watching the trees. It’s part of the reason he and the others have gathered together under Cafe Nagi’s roof, so they can break each other out of their trances when it happens. “...did I lose too much time?”

“No.” Takeru shook his head, hand giving his shoulder a tight squeeze. His own eyes flickered over the forest before quickly looking away, hands tightening more. “Jin spotted you from inside, but you know how he is, soo…”

“He told you to come get me?” Yusaku hummed, watching Takeru’s face twist into a sheepish grin as he moved to scratch the back of his neck. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Hey, what can I say? We’ve gotta help take care of each other.” His friend shrugged, smiling still. The silver and red haired boy dropped his hands, turning to wave back to the door of the cafe, “But you should get inside though, you know how it is when trances start. And you know how Kusanagi gets when this happens to one of us…”

He did, probably more than Takeru. He was one of the first of the...victims...Kusanagi had found. A chance meeting, really, despite the fact that Kusanagi had been trying to track down the others like Jin for years. Yusaku himself had been living in a boarding home back then, sharing a bedroom with three other people, barely scraping by money with a job delivering potions for a local wizard. He’d been weary, at first, when Kusanagi pulled him aside in the middle of a delivery and begged him to come stay with him, but he’d been convinced after he met his brother, another of the six souls forever haunted by the forest.

The only six the forest took that ever returned.

  
  
Because the forest takes things, people. Anything that broke the treeline never came back. Toys, plants, animals, people. Once it left the safety of the walls or the road it was gone for good, never to return. Taken by the fog. All it took was a single wrong step. 

They used to have a railroad outside the walls, because people all over wanted to come see their sea. But they don’t have a sea anymore, the forest cut them away from it, leaving anyone who wanted to see it forced to travel miles and miles around the thick forest, skipping the city all together. And they don’t have a railroad anymore either. All that’s left is a broken down track you can find if you walk far enough down the road leaving the city, miles and miles away, far enough that the trees end, the neglected iron and wood a ghost trail leading to the next city. 

Yusaku had seen that railroad once. Only once. Because that’s the only time he’d ever tried to leave Den City’s walls. It was just supposed to be a delivery, the wizard he was working for wanted him to travel to their neighboring city for a few days and pick up ingredients that had been lost to him ever since they lost the trains. It was just supposed to be a several day trip by cart, one day of shopping in the city, and then several days back. Simple and quick as it could be.

But he’d taken one step past the border between the forest surrounding Den City and the outside world and had been filled with so much pain he’d nearly fallen off the steam-powered cart charting him. His head had filled with an echoing scream, the inside of his head stabbed with a cold steel and heart twisting with longing. He doesn’t remember much after that, but he’s been told that he tried to crawl back to the forest, writhing on the grass and screaming loud and bloody, like someone was stabbing him. The cart driver and other passengers had to hold him down and rope him to the cart to keep him away from it, taking the reins of the cart and fleeing, his screams echoing through the sky until the forest finally fell out of sight.

One of the other passengers of the trip swears that he saw the tree roots move, branches bending and mist receding at the forest tried to follow them. He said there were eyes in the trees, watching them go. Gold and furious as the fog and branches grew and grew and chased them.

The forest spread a whole mile that day, but Yusaku didn’t remember that part. All he remembered was the chilling fear and anxiety that haunted him the days afterwards. The cold chills, the nagging tug at his mind, the twisting in his heart and tingingling of his limbs. The constant ghost whispers that waifed his ears, “Come back, come back, come back to me.”

The relief he’d felt when he finally saw the forest again. The forest itself called for him, willing him to enter the trees, welcoming him home.

Yusaku never left Den City again after that day.

“Yusaku, come on.” Takeru pulled him out of his musings, frowning deeply. He reached his hand out, wrapping his calloused fingers around Yusaku’s thin wrist, “You’re zoning out again. Come inside.”

“Oh.” He breathed, nodding. He let his friend lead him inside by the wrist, still feeling the forest’s eyes burning on his back even as he was led inside the cafe. 

Cafe Nagi was specifically built by Kusanagi to protect them from the forest, fronting as a cafe with grilled foods and coffees. It was very popular with the working class of the city, existing as one of the safe from the forest gaze. The runes carved into the walls constantly lit with an eerie blue, humming from the constant strain of blocking the forest’s magic. Sometimes Yusaku liked to brush his hands over them, feel the vibrations of them against his skin. 

Kusanagi stood behind the wooden counter, the coffee machines steaming behind him, food on the grill. Yusaku must not have lost too much time, because the cafe was fairly busy, the middle of a lunch rush it seemed, which meant he couldn’t have lost more than an hour at most. 

“Welcome home.” Kusanagi calls out, waving his tongs for a second. But he’s too busy to leave the grill, going back to the grill immediately. 

Takeru doesn’t both him, and neither does Yusaku, both slipping past the slew of customers and up the stairs settled at the back of the room behind a privacy curtain, ascending the stairs that lead to their shared home. 

Yusaku feels more at ease inside their rune covered apartments, away from the eyes of the forest and the bustle of the cafe’s customers. He lets out a long sigh, rolling his shoulders, bones cracking a bit as his body relaxed. He unfolded his bag from over his shoulder, his workbooks and bottles clinking inside as he dropped it onto the wooden floor.

“You good?” Takeru asked, glancing down at the bag. Without a word he bent down and picked it up himself, because he was a very considerate friend and Yusaku appreciated him, even if he doesn’t say it often.

“Yeah, I should be fine.” He nodded, “I don’t have to leave again tonight, so it won’t get me again tonight.”

Takeru’s own shoulders eased at the reassurance, his lips twitching upward into a smile. “That’s a relief. No offense, but you get caught by the woods a lot more easy than the others. Makes me worry, man.”

“You’re one to talk.” Yusaku pointed out, green eyes meeting grey unblinkingly, “You get caught up in it every time you lose your temper.”

“Hey! I’ve been working on that!” Takeru pointed, pretending to be offended. “Kiku and I have been trying lavender tea and such.”

Yusaku doubted lavender tea was going to keep Takeru from punching someone in the face the next time he heard a whisper about the forest being their fault, but he didn’t bother saying that. He doubted Takeru wanted to hear it anyway. So he just hummed, turning towards the door that led to his particular apartment.

Technically, Cafe Nagi used to be a two floor apartment complex before Kusanagi bought it with money he’d scraped together over the years. He’d converted the entire first floor into his cafe, but left the above floor intact, leaving them open for them to live in. It was actually the promise of a free apartment to himself that even made Yusaku agree to meet Jin in the first place. Well, that and the promise the building was safe, covered head to toe in enough runes to repel a small army wizards. He’d never asked Takeru or his grandparents what made them agree to move in, but he expects it was much the same for them.

  
  
_~~Not that they didn’t contribute money to keeping the building running, of course. They all pooled money together to get a steamed heater last year. It was the first time Yusaku has ever had running water or heat without a fireplace.~~ _

Yusaku’s apartment was mostly empty, lacking in decoration or extra furniture. It was limited to a bed and workdesk, with a small table shoved in the corner for mealtimes. Takeru, as always, lets out a crown when he sees it, despairing the lack of personalization. 

“Welcome home!” A small voice called out. Roboppy, his cleaning unit, rolled into view. Their magical core pulsed to life, pushing the small machine forward as she greeted them. She was an impressive piece of magitech, as lively and personal as a person despite her metal body. Her body clanked as she moved, an orange-ish glow illuminating from the crystals powering them.

“Hey Roboppy.” Takeru raised a hand in greeting, walking over to Yusaku’s desk and dropping his bag carelessly on the desk. He shoved the bag oven, digging through the blue haired teen’s things. If it were anyone else acting with such blatant disregard for privacy Yusaku would have been annoyed, angry even, but Takeru had a special privilege.

“Whatccha workin on?” Takeru asked, pulling out one of the thick books from Yusaku’s school. He turns it on it’s side, letting the pages flip down, before turning the tomb in his hands and closing it, dropping it on the desk’s surface. 

“Crystals.” Yusaku sets himself on the bed, letting out a sight. He kicked off his shoes, leaving them beside the bed and crossing his legs. “Specifically storing magical energy inside to power magitech.”

“Oh, nice.” Takeru took out one of the bottles in his bag, peering at it before discarding it onto the desk and rummaging through the bag again, “But I thought you were more into rune crafting?”

“It’s good to have more than one skill.” Yusaku explains easily, turning his attention away from his overly curious friend. He sends a quick look towards his window, making sure the curtains were still firmly closed. Maybe he’s a bit paranoid, but he’s never liked the idea of the forest’s eyes being able to peer into his resting place, where he was at his most vulnerable. The runes protected them from its power, he knows that, but there’s a part of him that always thinks back to that ill-fated trip away from Den City, to the golden eyes his fellow traveler swore watched him leave. 

Yusaku looks away, stomach twisting. 

He used to dream of golden eyes, before moving into Cafe Nagi. He hasn’t ever told the others this. 

Takeru, finished rifling through his bag, steps away from the desk, eyes roaming over the room. He stands there, hands on his hips, shifting from foot to foot impatiently. “If you start making crystal stuff and doing runes then you have to promise to make stuff for my grandparents. Like Roboppy.”

“I built Roboppy.” Yusaku pointed out lightly, folding his hands in his lap. “I could already build them a machine like them, provided I find the right materials.”

“Yay! Another Roboppy!” The small machine wobbled a bit, rolling around Takeru’s feet, their small head tilting upwards. “Will New Roboppy like story time too?”

“There isn’t a new Roboppy yet.” Takeru shrugs, bending down to pat the small machine on the head, “But maybe? Who knows?”

“Yay.” Roboppy seemed satisfied with the answer, rolling away from Takeru and under Yusaku’s bed. What they planned to do under there was a mystery beyond him, but it left the two teens staring awkwardly after the machine, waiting for them to emerge from beneath, only to find themselves waiting for nothing.

Finally, Takeru looked at him again, hands back on his hips, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem kind of out of it.”

He’s not sure why Takeru is asking, he should know that everything was fine once you entered the building and away from the forest’s sight. It couldn’t catch him here. He was safe behind these walls and runes, with Kusanagi and the others surrounding him. “I’m inside, I’m fine.”

Takeru frowned, nose wrinkling. “...okay, but you promise you’re not going out again today?”

“I’ve got too much work to do.” Yusaku told him honestly, green eyes falling to his desk, “I’ll be in here working all afternoon. Maybe into the night.”

That seemed to ease whatever worries Takeru had more than Yusaku’s other assurances, his shoulders loosening and a long breath exhaling from him. He relaxed a bit, crossing his arms over his chest loosely, “Alright then, I’m gonna head back to my apartment then. I promised my grandma I’d help her out today. You sure you’re good?”

“I promise, I’m fine.” Yusaku sighed, tired of repeating himself.

Luckily, Takeru seems to take that as the final word on the matter. He hums, giving Yusaku one last look over before turning, heavy footsteps filling the room before pausing at the door. He turns one last time, raising his hand, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Of course.” Yusaku nods.

“And, hey.” Takeru points at him, “Remember the rule.”

“I won’t leave at night without you.” Yusaku sighs, leaning his cheek against his hand.

“I mean it Yusaku, last time one of us did…” Takeru trials off, lips pinching shut as he lets the implications linger in the air. The unspoken words carrying their own weight.

They don’t talk about Spectre.

“I promise.” Yuaku sighed, not able to to keep from indulging Takeru’s worries with such a strong argument against him. Miyu was safe with the Zaizens, Suzukage and Jin couldn’t be paid to leave the cafe. Yusaku was the only flight risk at night, and there have been moments...well, Takerus fears weren’t unfounded. Of all of them Yusaku was always the most at risk. “I won’t leave. If something happens I’ll come to you or Kusanagi first.”

“Alright.” Takeru sighed, hand on his doorknob. With one final look he exited the room, clicking the door shut behind him. The moment he was gone Yusaku let himself fall against the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His head ached painfully, the weight of Takeru’s worry and the forest leaving him twitching. 

The runes on the wall hum, the vibrations audible in their efforts. It’s trying to reach him again. But Yusaku is out of reach, and he has no plans to betray his promise. Still, he shivers, the idea of it watching their home with unseen eyes unnerving him even as he’s had years to adjust to the idea.

“Roboppy, make sure the curtains stay closed.” He reminds the machine beneath his bed.

“Yes master!” He hears the whirl of his little helper as they move, setting about to make sure their master’s orders are met. They give a distressed cry, voice pitching, “It’s already closed master!”

“Make sure they stay closed.” Yusaku repeats, turning on his side. He should get to work, but his head is pounding. Maybe his trance had affected him more than he thought. Sometimes coming out of them was a bit...taxing, for lack of a better word. 

But he had work to do.

The boy pushes himself up, the bed creaking as he lifts himself front the surface. He wobbles onto his feet, reaching for the desk where Takeru had left his supplies strewn all over the surface. Falling into the seat, his fingers finding the small crystal the school provided.

They’re more expensive now that easy access to the rest of the world has been cut off, making local magic fall back more into druidry and more simple conduants like glass or clay, but Yusaku has a talent for runestudy, so the school was willing to lend him something a little bit pricer than glass.

...well, that and his connection to the forest. But that went unsaid by his teachers.

Brushing off those thoughts, Yusaku lets his fingers brush over the crystal. He focuses, feeling the burning tingle of magic leaving his fingers, sinking beneath the smooth surface, storing itself safely inside, glowing brightly as it waited for use. The boy hummed, letting the small battery roll in his hand. He’d barely drained from the mass pools of magic inside of him, and it leaves him feeling unsatisfied, like he could have done so much more. He certainly wouldn’t be able to craft anything particularly large or complicated with such a small thing. Even Roboppy would be more complicated.

Granted, it’s unlikely his teachers expected him to create something complicated at all. Likely they expected something simple, like a tea warmer, but it still leaves Yusaku unsatisfied. It’s unlikely he’ll be working here as long as he’d promised Takeru.

With a frustrated sigh, Yusaku sets to work, crafting a tea warmer.

It only takes him half an hour.

Pushing away his finished work, Yusaku resigns himself to simply studying tonight. He picks one of the books from his bag, not minding which it was and thumbing through the pages, the inky calligraphy worn from time.   
  
“Is master reading more stories?” Roboppy asks from their spot guarding the window, their head turning to watch Yusaku. “Can Roboppy listen to the story.”

Green eyes stare down at the bestiary, wondering if it would be wise to share the existence of the creatures that typically exist in these stories with them. The small thing has a preference for more childish stories. Things parents would tell their children before bed. These creatures are a bit more...unforgiving. 

He closes the book.

“Have you heard of wil-o-wisps?” He asks the machine, knowing very much they haven’t. 

“Noooooo.” Roboppy shakes their head, the mits of their hands raising over to where their mouth would be if Yusaku had bothered to give them one. 

“They’re ghost lights.” Yusaku explains, turning around completely now, “Balls of light that fly around forest and swamps.”

“Oh no!” Roboppy abandons their post by the window, rolling up to Yusaku and reaching their mitted hands upward, pushing them against his legs. “Master you’ve never seen them have you? Don’t worry, Roboppy will protect you!”

“I haven’t seen one.” He promises the small thing, bending down to pick them up, setting them on his lap. The boy placed a hand on their head, a show of comfort. “You’ve protected me.”

“Yay!” Roboppy’s mits pat against his wrists. They look as happy as a creature with a face of motionless sculpted metal and glass can. “Roboppy saved master from the bad things!”

“My hero.” He pats them again, because it makes them happy. And they cheer again, trying to pat him with their mitts in an imitation of the hugs they’ve seen Takeru give him a dozen times. And he lets them, feeling the warmth of the magic burning beneath their metal body. The teen hums, reaching his hands to the orange crystals burning magic into their core, keeping them alive and developing. He pours his own magic into them, refilling them with power. Recharging his tiny maid.

He’d like to be able to afford actual gems to power Roboppy with someday, if he ever finds a sudden collection of wealth.

If he survived long enough to ever afford a gem.

Yuasku stops, hands falling from Roboppy’s power source. He looks over to the covered window, shivering again before purposely looking away. 

The truth was, he was falling in more and more tances lately. 

He’s always been more prone to them than the others, but it was never this frequent before. Whatever is in the forest calling to him, it’s getting stronger, trying to break into his dreams again, more and more persistent every passing day, the runes set aglow every night, whereas before it only tried once or twice a week. 

He hasn’t told Kusanagi yet. 

He doesn’t need to, he’s safe as long as he’s inside. It’s something he needs to keep reminding himself of. But the fear burns inside of him still, well hidden by the wall of apathy he uses to shield himself. But even then, the fear has left its mark. He’s careful not to go out at night, when the call is strongest, anymore.

Spectre was lost at night.

Most people who wander in the forest go during the day, when they think they can find their way back. Foreigners to the city, tourists, people who haven’t lived in it’s shadow for over a decade. People who come here because they don’t believe the stories, or want to prove the academics of the city wrong. Always eager to try their tricks and stepping over the border with a plan, always failing to return once the fog takes them. 

Only locals disappear at night. Those who want to disappear from this world, sneaking under cover of night past the guards and stepping through that forbidden line. Yusaku hopes Spectre wasn’t one of them. He hopes Spectre was simply lost to the call. It wouldn’t be hard to lose yourself to it, not at night. At night it was a tangible thing, that forest’s call. You could feel it on your skin, tenderly trying to lure you away. They’ve all had a moment where they’ve almost been taken before, he most of all. Lost as a hand he couldn’t see took his own.

“Come back to me.” A single voice would whisper. Not the whispering echo, but a tangible and real voice, “Come home.”

Yusaku fears the day he listens to that gentle plea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen.
> 
> I know I have other stories to write, but I was in a bad place and needed to do something not-thinky but distracting. And so I have a story that's only a little plot, and a lot harmless fairytale based loosely around stories my Scottish self grew up with. It's mostly harmless romance, don't expect much. 
> 
> BBell is sorry and promises Ghost Of Pandora will be up soon. This is not a story they're super focused on.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_**Dépaysement** (French): The feeling that comes from not being in one’s home country; being a foreigner. _

* * *

_The mist is a living thing._

_It kisses his skin with cool lips, feather light as his face and neck are peppered with it’s icy attentions. It takes his hands, wrapping invisible fingers between his own, interwoven as it leads him further within itself. The tangible form he can’t make out through the never ending veil of white, if there even is one. But he does feel the weight of a hand in his, and that’s all the reality he needs._

_His bare feet brush against the grass, dew sticking the soft blades to his flesh. It digs between his toes as he walks further and further in. He never steps on a twig, or rock, or leaf. It’s all just clear grass and soft ground, not even smooth stone breaking his stories the path perfectly, safe for him to travel._

_He opens his mouth, wanting to ask where they’re going, but the words won’t leave his lips. They don’t lodge in his throat, but edge at the tip of his tongue, refusing to form even as he wills his lips to move. But his lips merely part soundlessly, the mist brushing against them gently, a soft and wet thumbing s his chin is tilted upwards. He blinks, trying to find a clearer view of anything, a shadow in the fog, a figure, a shape. But all he can see is endless fields of white._

_For a moment, there’s a cool press of lips against his, cold as ice and tasting faintly of mints. His cheek is stroked, loose bits of hair brushed behind his ear. The fingers start trailing down the side of his neck from there, trailing further and further until they come to trail across his collarbone. The lips leave his, and he gasps for breath, sucking in fresh air thick with that same mist, filling his lungs with that same coolness until they burn. He tries to reach for his throat, to rub away the cold, but long fingers wrap around his wrists and hold them up against his side._

_He wants to ask what’s going on, but he still can’t summon words. He’s pulled forward again, feet stumbling against the soft ground. The hands steady him, keeping him from falling as they continue along his path. Everything feels hazy now, like he’s walking beneath the water, and yet he could breath and feel the kisses against his skin._

_This feels like a dream, he realizes. Ah, he’s dreaming._

_Yusaku tries to put words to his lips again, this time managing to mutter, “I’m dreaming.”_

_“Shh.” A voice whispers, though not in his ears. He doesn’t know where the whispering is coming from. It feels like it was coming from all around him, echoing in his ears and fading gently. He tried to tilt his head this way and that, to find more sound, but it was eerily silent without the voice. “Just follow me.”_

_Knowing he could, in fact, summon words, he tried to ask where they were going again, but found himself mute again. Yusaku frowns, finding this odd. Then suspicion begins to ebb within him, and he pauses his walking, wanting to gain his bearings before he lets the mist drag him another step forward. The hands around his wrists tug at him gently, then a bit more insistently when he refuses to move._

_“I can’t go with you.” He tells those hands, trying to pull away, feet stepping against what felt like a cobblestone path. Strange, it had been grass too only a moment ago, “I have work, obligations. I can’t go.”_

_Those hands rub down his wrists and along his forearms. The caress is feather light, trailing up and down again and again in uneven patterns. The fingers reach past his elbow after a while, slipping up the side of his arms and to his shoulder, over his collar bones, and back up his neck. Thumbs rub his cheekbones, and his head is tilted back as his face is peppered with fresh pecks._

_“Stop.” Yusaku demanded, trying to pull away, “I still can't go with you.”_

_The kisses stop, but the thumbs don’t stop rubbing his face. Or, at least, not at first. Suddenly the hands disappear from his body altogether. Left alone now, Yusaku blinked, but found himself still within the hold of endless mist._

_He frowned, turning his head to look around himself and try to catch sight of anything, but it was all the same. Left without any options, Yusaku turned round, walking back the way he came, hoping it would lead him...lead him…_

_Where was he trying to go?_

_Yusaku frowns, trying to remember where he was before the mist, but he can’t recall. He can’t remember anything before the mist. He stops, thinking deeply. He knows who he is, and he knows what he can do. He needs to attend school in the morning, he knows that much, but he can’t recall where this school is, or where he was staying for the night. Or where he lived at all._

_Magic was involved in this, Yusaku realized. But as soon as the thought entered his mind he felt an ease take over him. Something felt incredibly right within him, content. His eyes slipped closed, and two arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling his back against a chest._

_“Ah.” He peers down, but again only thick white blocks his site._

_“I brought you a gift.” A voice tells him. Yusaku can’t be sure if it was the same as before, but something is shoved in his hand against his will, leaving it behind, “It’s free from me to you.”_

_Yusaku brings his hand up close enough to break through some of the endless mist, finding a thick goblet in his hand. It was filled with a drink whose color he couldn’t make out, and a cherry hung from a stem at the side. He brought it up to his nose, sniffing to try and find out what was inside, only to find a thick, sweet, smell choking him. He jerked back, coughing a bit, but he was hello firmly in place by those arms._

_“Drink.” The voice tells him, “You’ll love it.”_

_“I don’t like sweets.” Yusaku answers back, coughing still as his chest shook. The raddeling was dying down, but the hands only tightened around him more and more with every sound that left his lips, staying with a forehead buried in his neck and staying there by the time he recovered. “Sweet things are hard on my body.”_

_It was a side effect of his exposure to the forest, doctors had said. Whatever happened to him within had left his body frail. He was prone to pains, sometimes without cause, and was easily fatigued. Oftentimes he would find his body failing to stay awake during the day, and the exhaustion wasn’t helped by the nightmares he often experienced during the night. But, most strangely of all, he found sweet things often intolerable to his tongue, turning his stomach and leaving him sick and prone to falling under the forest’s trance._

_But the voice disregarded his warning, simply stating, “Not this. This is good for you.”_

_Yusaku somehow doubted that, so he didn’t bother to drink, holding the goblet away from his face, as far as his reach would stretch. He tilted his hand to pour the drink all over the ground, but one of the arms shot forward first, a strong grip stopping the action and pulling his hand back._

_“So rude.” This time the voice is in his ear, hot breath hitting the shell. Yusaku’s whole body shivered, his skin forming goosebumps all over as the warmth contrasted with the cool mist. “Trying to waste a gift brought especially for you. Especially one so rare.”_

_The hands brought his whole arm back, bending it so the goblet lingered dangerously close to his lips, “Drink. It was made just for you.”_

_“No.” Yusaku frowns, moving his head as far back as he could. He struggles, body wriggling, trying to break the other’s hold, but that one arm is hard as steel, keeping him in place like an iron bar. He reaches his free hand to claw at it, but the stranger doesn’t even seem to feel it. “I don’t want it.”_

_“Very well.” The stranger hums, bending the goblet, and Yusaku’s arm, upward, his head moving further over his shoulder. “I’ll drink then.”_

_Yusaku can only stand there, trapped and blinded, as the stranger does just that. Even so close, he can’t make out a form. But when his hand is released he jerks the goblet away, bringing it to his face again, only to find it emptied._

_What?_

_“Something strange is going on.” He decided. And, perhaps, it was a bit late to realize this, but he’s...he’s...not sure what he just said. He thinks he’s suspicious, though. He must be. He feels suspicious._

_“You’re so stubborn.” Comes a sigh, then a chin resting on his shoulder, “But a creature such as myself? There’s no life without that spark. I wouldn't change that about you even if I could. I wouldn't change_ anything _about you.”_

_“I…” Yusaku shakes his head. “I need to go home now.”_

_“You_ are _home.” The arm grips tighter, and the other hand snakes around his front, reaching upward to grab his chin, “You’re finally home. It’s that city that’s kept you away from where you belong.”_

_A city?_

_Yes, he remembers a city. And...and...he remembers a cafe. He remembers. Yes, he has school tomorrow. And he lives in a cafe. He lives behind stone walls, and on top of cobblestone paths. He lives with friends, and they live together so they can be safe from...from…_

_“That’s not your home.” Yusaku is released, suddenly. He stumbles on his feet, and instinctively tries to flee, but the hands are on his wrist again. Lips press against his, again, but this time they’re covered in a strange sweetness. A ghost taste of cherries and honey and something he can’t name. It makes him feel...safe. And warm. It feels like the ghost of childhood summers. Like rain over rivers. Like the warm sun kissing his skin on playgrounds. Like stars over oceans. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so safe ._

_When the lips pull away the sweetness remains._

_“Next time just take it.” The unseen figure brushed his cheek briefly, moving a stray lock of hair behind his ear, “It will feel so much better when you do.”_

_Everything already felt_ good _. He couldn’t imagine feeling better than he does now. It_ couldn’t _be better. He’s safer than he’s ever been, warmer and more at home. Every part of him is at ease. It’s been so long since he’s felt at peace that he'd forgotten what it felt like, how much he needed it. He's starved for it, and a single taste as left him addicted for it, so starved for the love and comfort that sweetness promised that he thinks he'd willingly suffer whatever came next just to taste it again.  
_

_His eyes slip closed as his breath leaves him._

_It’s easy to let the mist lead him back onto the path. One step at a time, the cobblestone becomes grass again, every step he takes becomes softer and easier on his feet. It’s easy to let himself forget his worries, to just let himself go._

_“That’s right.” It coos to him, pleased with the way he willingly lets himself follow it's direction, “Just let go. Forget everything else. Just come home. Don’t make me wait any longer.”_

_He won’t. Yusaku won’t make him wait even one moment more, not ever again. It all seemed silly now, his fears and suspicions. There wasn’t a need for paranoia, not here, not when being here felt so right. Yes, he could trust this presence to keep him safe. Perhaps it was the only thing that could keep him safe. He’d been a fool to ever question it._

_One step._

_Two steps._

_Three._

_A furious yell echoed through his mind, and something within him snapped painfully. He let out a loud cry, snatching his hand away and clutching his head. The presence leading him gives a concerned cry, fingers brushing his hair back, only for those hands to be snatched away as the furious yell is repeated, becoming an all out roar as the hands are snatched away._

_“Don’t **touch** him you **filthy** creature!” Came the voice of fury, smooth but heavy with his unmatched rage. “You have no right to him!”_

_“ Filthy?” The first voice demands, incredulous. Then it takes on anger of its own, spitting as it realizes the rest of the intruder’s words. “No right?_ No right? _I have_ every _right! I have the_ only _right! It’s_ you _that has no right to him after what you’ve done!”_

_“You **dare**!” The other growls. It’s a guttural sound, one that doesn’t fit the smooth voice behind it, but that causes Yusaku’s head to throb painfully at the sound. He flinches, trying to back away, but he blinded still, left to stumble in the white mist as the confrontation is allowed to play out.  
_

_“I dare!” The first voice argues right back, the words a weapon sharp as blades against the other. “I dare because it’s true! **You** caused this! And now you’re trying t_o take him away from me! _”_

_“He isn’t yours!” The other yells back, the mist turning harsh and cold as his voice sends chills through the air. “He was **never** yours! None of them are, but especially not **him**! Leave them alone and let them live without parasites like you leeching off of them.”_

_“He’s a_ part _of me.” The first voice challenges, “He’s as much a part of me as I am of him. You can’t have it both ways! Your folk did this to us and then abandoned us. You don’t get to interfere!”_

_“I **never** abandoned them!” The second yells back._

_“No, you just sat back and **watched**.” The first practically sneers, “You did worse than abandon him. **You lead him there**!”_

_A furious, wordless, yell pierced the air, and whatever happened yet Yusaku didn’t stick around for. He turned, fleeing into the mist as both voices argued and growled loudly. He doesn’t pay them any mind though, stuck somewhere between dazzling bliss and incredible pain all at once, the contrast making him nauseous. All he could trust were his instincts, and his instincts said run . So he did, fast and far, not even knowing if he was going anywhere. Grass disappeared, stone replacing it, digging into his bare feet painfully as sticks and twigs and briars joined._

_He doesn’t know where he’s going. The mist doesn’t thin, not at all. All he can do is move forward even if it means getting lost._

_As if he wasn’t already lost._

_At least his mind is...clearing. He thinks. He’s regaining his panic, at least, and he also knows he’s getting further away from the voices. The further away he becomes, the more his mind clears, and the more his mind clears the more he can focus. So he slips his eyes closed, reaching for that magic burning somewhere deep within him, trying to find a link between him and home._

_It sparks within him, and the mist thins at last. Somewhere from within the two voices cry out, then they both call his name in a panic, “Yusaku!”_

_But he ignores them, following that line, determined to find home._

_If the two attempt to chase him, then he’s either too fast for him, or too agile. Or maybe his magic burned truer than theirs, he can’t say, but he knows they don’t catch him again._

_The magic fizzes and burns beneath his skin as the mist thins and fades, his feet nicking sticks and leaving splinters behinds as he reaches closer and closer to-_

“YUSAKU!”

The blue haired boy is snapped awake with gasp, green eyes blowing wide as he feels himself being shaken. The world around him spins, only aligning when the shaking stops. It takes another moment for the world to align, and when it does he finds a pale faced Kusanagi looking down at him with quivering lips.

He blinks again, confused, before realizing they’re outside. The night sky shining with stars above them, the city wall easily recognizable over his companion’s shoulder. A few feet away he can spot Takeru and Suzukage, both standing nervously, watching with weary and uncertain eyes.

“How did…?” The words die on Yusaku’s lips before he can even finish the question. His brows knit together, eyes flickering downward to study himself. He’s in his pajamas, the fabric torn and dirty. One of the legs has been ripped open completely, and his bare feet are covered in thick layers of dirt and grime, his toes bleeding thick red all over the road. It’s only when he spots the bleeding he even registers the pain, hissing as he picks up a foot to examine it. He’s mauled his feet. It’s hardly the worst pain he’s ever felt, but it can’t be good to stand on.

“Yusaku.” Kusanagi breaths, pulling the teen into his chest and wrapping his arms around him. Green eyes widen in surprise as the teen finds his nose buried into the older man’s neck. He makes a startled noise, but Kusanagi is too wired to care about that, apparently. He just rocks side to side on his feet, his arms wrapped firmly around the younger boy. “Thank whatever gods exist in this world.” 

“Uh.” Yusaku doesn’t know what to say. He never knew Kusanagi cared for him so deeply. And, what’s more, Yusaku can even remember a time where someone has honestly just held him in their arms like this. It makes his skin tingle, but at the same time it fills a gnawing craving deep within him, one he had never even realized was there. 

“It almost took you.” Kusanagi breaths, shaking, “Oh god, it almost took you.”

A cold chill spreads through his blood. He can feel his body begin to quiver, and Kusanagi’s hold only becomes tighter around him. 

Suzukage, another of the victims, shutters from where he stood in the middle of the road. He’s in his pajamas too, colored to match his green hair. He started at Yusaku with wide eyed horror, holding himself and shivering. “You, like, just...just kept running. I tried to wake you up but you didn’t even hear me.”

“But the runes…” Yusaku spoke, hands tightening at his side.

“They were burned out.” Takeru’s own fists are white knuckled at his side. His eyes narrow dangerously as he recalls what happened. “It got me too, but my grandparents caught me before I left my room. But...but the runes...they were burnt off the wall.”

“It got me too.” Suzukage shivers again, “But my sister caught me.”

So it got both of them as well? That wasn’t good. Normally the forest can only reach for one of them at a time, trying to draw them in individually. He hadn’t even known it could reach for all of them at once, it had never tried. He’d known it’s power was endless, but he hadn’t realized…

“Where’s Jin?” He asks, prying himself away from Kusanagi. “Was he…?”

“It got him too.” Kusanagi hisses, eyes narrowing resentfully. His grip tightens again, “I woke up when he was trying to walk out the door. He’s with Takeru’s grandparents right now.”

“When we all realized what happened we went to check on you.” Suzukage is still shaking, holding his elbows as he takes several fearful steps forward. “But you weren’t there! You were just...just... _gone_!”

Because there was no one there to catch him and awaken him, except Roboppy, who he’d already put to bed. So the forest was able to more effectively steal him away in the dead of night than the others, who were surrounded by family.

“You were just…” Takeru throws out his hands, eyes still wide as he waves his arms in wide gestures, “...running around like something was trying to eat you!”

“You were running into the wall!” Suzukage yells, throwing his arms in the air, sounding on the verge of hysteria. “You were running around, and then you kept _running into the wall_!”

Into the wall?

Yusaku’s eyes trail over Kusanagi’s shoulder towards the imposing stone, built so hastily only a half decade ago when the city realized the forest wouldn’t stop spreading inward ever so slowly, heart twisting in his chest. His body didn’t ache beyond its usual ghost pains, and the tearing of his feet, but he had a feeling that Suzukage wasn’t just being hyperbolic here. It’s terrifying to think that the only reason he hadn’t been taken yet was because he couldn’t think of how to get past the wall in his sleep. The idea fills him with a sense of crushing helplessness, one he hasn’t felt since he was a child, a feeling he’d _never_ wanted to feel again.

He pulls away from Kusanagi, any touch suddenly feeling like far too much. His feet burn as he moves, and they leave small stains of blood over the cobblestone as he moves, leaving a morbid trail behind.

“Hey.” Takeru moves forward, wrapping his arm around Yusaku’s neck and turning him away from the wall. “Let’s go back. We need to bandage up your feet.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Kusanagi agrees, hovering next to them, “Let’s get you kids back inside. I think we can all take tomorrow off.”

“Back inside!?” Suzukage finally bursts, hysterical giggling escaping his lips as he throws out his arms, “The damn forest burned through the runes! Scorched them right off the wall! Those were the only things keeping us safe! Now we’re _fucked_!”

“Calm down.” Kusanagi holds up his hands, “You’re going to be okay. We’ll sand down the wood and recarve the runes.”

“The woods burnt right through them!” Suzukage bellowed a little too loudly for the middle of the night, probably waking up anyone resting in one of the nearby buildings. “Those were the strongest dang runes outside of SOLtech and rich people houses! You know what that means? It’s getting _stronger_!”

“Or it was always that strong.” Yusaku pointed out blandly, feeling no need to hide the uncomfortable truth from anyone, “And now it’s just lost it’s patience.”

A tense silence fell over the group at his words. 

Suzukage broke the silence with his hysterical giggles, covering his mouth with his hand and whispering to himself, “We’re gonna fucking _diiiiiiiiieeeeee_.”

“Let’s just get you kids back.” Kusanagi puts one hand against Suzukage’s back and another against Takeru’s, standing behind Yusaku and pushing the three teens forward, “We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

His words didn’t reassure Suzukage, who kept muttering his predictions to their death under his hand, and it certainly didn’t reassure Yusaku, who could do nothing but stew in his own anger and frustration. Takeru was also left to seethe in his frustration, his fists falling as they hung off his shoulder.

The walk back home is further than Yusaku would have thought, with Cafe Nagi being so close to the wall he’d figured he couldn’t have made it far. But it seems like he had made it a long way all his own, and it took them a long, tense, not exactly silent walk back. When Cafe Nagi is back within sight Yusaku can make out Takeru’s grandparents on the doorstep, his grandmother standing with her hands grasped over her heart, a relieved gasp leaving her lips when she spots them, “You’re back. Oh thank god you found him.”

“We need to get them inside.” Kusanagi said in lieu of a greeting. “Right now.”

He pushed them through the door hastily, only keeping the door open long enough to make sure everyone was inside before slamming it shut, the telltale clicking of several locks sounding as he shut them off. Yusaku studied the room, green eyes eyeing the now scorched walls. Takeru and Suzukage hadn’t been lying at all, every single one of the many runes were gone. 

He didn’t see Jin or Suzukage’s sister, but he could easily picture what the other boy’s reaction had been to all this. Most likely he was huddled in a corner somewhere, panicking. Yusaku can’t even blame him. 

“I’m going to call the Zaizen’s and make sure Miyu is safe.” Kusanagi announced, stepping behind the counter and taking up the phone, spinning the circular dial pad. “You guys get Yusaku cleaned up. We’ll talk about what we’re going to do after.”

“Oh lord, his feet are bleeding.” Takeru’s grandmother sounded so distressed now that he was standing under the light for her to see. He probably looked far worse than outside, he imagines, so he doesn’t protest when she moves forward to usher him into the nearest restroom. Takeru is barely an inch behind her, slipping into Cafe Nagi’s guest restrooms as the elderly woman all but demands Yusaku sit on the edge of the porcelain sink.

Takeru moves for the emergency med kit, something they started stocking in every restroom after an incident involving a customer and a knife. He lets out a little victory cry as he pulls out the bandages and rubbing alcohol, “I’ll take care of his feet grandma.”

His grandmother pursed her lips, watching him, “Alright, but I’ll wait here just in case…”

“Grandma, I got this.” Takeru whined, moving past the woman and kneeling in front of Yusaku’s filthy feet. His friend wrinkled his nose, glancing up at him and letting out a nervous chuckle, “Uuumm.”

Yusaku didn’t say a word, adjusting on the perch he sat, moving his feet to lay in the sink and turning on the hot water. It came out heated, and the heat stung his open wounds. If he were less used to pain he might have hissed, but he only watched the water turn black and red as it flowed past his feet and down the drain. He leaned forward, scratching at the dirt with his blunted nails, a soapless washing until he was content with the cleanliness. Once he was satisfied he turned back into place, presenting Takeru with his now clean feet, turning off the water as he settled.

“This might hurt a bit.” Takeru warned not two seconds before he poured pure alcohol over the wound. It fizzled, foam forming and dripping off his toes. Takeru and Yusaku both winched at the sight, knowing how filthy it must be. 

“Oh dear.” Takeru’s grandmother muttered from her spot, twittering worriedly. 

Neither boy paid her much attention, Takeru focusing on bandaging Yusaku’s feet and the boy in question focusing on watching his movements as the clothes stun round and round until his feet were completely covered. He didn’t know if the other was doing this correctly, but his grandmother didn’t speak up, so he assumed it was at least adequate. 

“Done!” Takeru smiled as he tied the bandage on the left foot, throwing his fists in the air and standing up, “It’s still going to suck to walk on, but at least you won’t bleed everywhere anymore!”

And his feet wouldn’t become infected and he wouldn’t lose limbs, which would be terribly inconvenient. Yusaku hopped down from the sink, ignoring the sticking of his feet as he turned to his friend, “Thank you.”

“Eh, don’t even think about it.” Takeru waved off, “You’d have done the same if it were me.”

“It almost was you.” Takeru’s grandmother spoke, her wrinkled face paling terrible and hand rubbing together in nervous circles. Her lips quivered, eyes blinking as they became watery, “I thought this would end when we moved here. But those awful trees almost took you all. Just like the other poor boy.”

“Grandma, no.” Takeru made a distressed noise, looking to Yusaku for help. But the blue haired teen only shrugged, not knowing what he could say. There was no denying she was right. They were almost taken, and it was very likely that if they hadn’t been as lucky as they were then they would have ended up like Spectre, wherever he is.

He hopes wherever that is, Spectre is at least okay. He may have been a little strange, but he didn’t deserve to disappear. 

As if the world itself aligned just to assure him that Spectre wasn’t, in fact, alright, Suzukage’s hysterical voice broke through the wall, “ _We’re fucked!_ ”

The three of them jumped, Takeru’s grandmother even letting out a little gasp and folding her hand over her heart again, “Such language!”

“No, no, he’s probably got a point.” Takeru said, moving to throw open the door back into the cafe’s dining area.

Suzukage was at one of the tables, head down and hands carding through his hair, still laughing hysterically and looking very on the verge of a panic attack. Takeru’s grandfather stood pale faced next to the table, eyes locked on Kusanagi, who stared blankly at the phone held loosely in his hand.

“What’s going on?” Yusaku asked, slipping past Takeru and stepping into the cafe, eyes rolling over the room. No one spoke for a moment, or even seemed to hear him. So he asked again, this time turning to look at Kusanagi as he asked, “What happened?”

“She’s gone!” Suzukage shot up, beating both his fists against the table, “It got her!”

He could feel the blood drain from his face. 

“But Yusaku kept running into a wall!” Takeru shouted, sounding near hysterical himself for a second. Then he sounded angry, furious even, “It couldn’t have got her! She couldn’t have made it to the gate! She’s in the inner city with the Zaizens! Way safer than us!”

“Akira said his runes were burned out too.” Kusanagi stated blankly, hand dropping the phone.

“But how did she get out of the city!” Takeru demanded, stepping forward. “We don’t know she’s gone yet! Maybe she’s just lost like Yusaku is!”

“No.” Kusanagi shook his head, “Aoi saw it. There’s a hole in one of the walls now. Miyu walked right through it and into the woods. She couldn’t stop her.”

“We’re doomed.” Suzukage threw himself up, throwing his hands in the air, “Fuck it! Two down man! Four to go! It’s finally coming for us!”

“Shut up!” Takeru yelled, turning on Suzukage, “That’s not helping!”

“How is anything going to help? I’m just telling it like it is!” The green haired boy shot back, “It just burned through the only things we thought were protecting us and took us all at the same time! It got Miyu! It would have gotten us too if we hadn’t gotten lucky!”

“We don’t know that.” Takeru’s grandfather spoke, voice deceptively even. 

“Yusaku was _running into the wall_.” Suzukage pointed at him, waving his finger wildly, “He was doing his damnedest to get into the woods! If we hadn’t found him he’d have either killed himself or the forest would’ve broken that wall like it did for Miyu!”

Yusaku frowns, stomach turning in discomfort. He didn’t like imagining himself, trapped in the realm of sleep, running madly into pure stone until his body was bruised and bleeding and broken. He liked thinking of Miyu doing the same even less. 

And unlike him, it was too late to stop her. She was gone now, taken by the mists and twisted roots. Whatever happened to her, he hopes it’s not something worse than dead. He hopes she survives, he hopes she isn’t pulled underground by twisted roots into she chokes on dirt and the rot of her body feeds the trees until their leaves bleed red.

But there’s blood in those woods, and they’re hungry. 

Yusaku gulps, turning to stare out the thin glass window, straight into the woods, and he could feel it watching back. The treetops swayed eerily from where they peeked over the wall, their dark silhouettes waving at him from beneath the night sky, almost a friendly greeting, but Yusaku knows what it truly means.

‘ _See you soon_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dddddduuuuuuuuunnnnnnnn.
> 
> Welp, I did that. 
> 
> First of all, I would like to apologize to everyone I ever hurt, which are the Lost Kids and their families and friends in particular. Second of all, I would like to specifically apologize to Yusaku for what I did to him in particular this chapter. But most of all I would like to apologize to Aoi and Miyu in particular. 
> 
> Suzukage having a fucking panic attack? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Welp, have fun guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief misgendering, branding, and Den City's awful law system.

* * *

**Malneirophrenia** _:_ (Greek) the feeling of unease or unhappiness that comes from waking up from a nightmare.

* * *

Things change after Miyu’s disappearance. 

The forest grew stronger with her as a part of it now. The mist between it’s trees grew so high that they reached the very top of those wooden towers, and it was thicker and whiter than ever. The forest always grew stronger with every new victim, but it seemed having her made it swell like a bloated corpse.

Yusaku isn’t surprised, it was like that when Spectre disappeared. When the forest took him the trees and it’s roots became taller and stronger than ever, even a single stick as hard as steel, and tree’s heads peering over the walls. Now it has two of the six children it gave back, and it’s very clear that meant ill for Den City. 

Everyone was frightened by the change, he could tell. People didn’t linger in the streets anymore, rushing wherever they needed with downturn faces and upturned coats, hats and hoods pulled over their faces and feet scrambling quickly. There were no horses, too spooked for riding, or any animals at all. The few carts Yusaku has seen have all been self-driving, ridden by pale faced rich men. Mother’s would drag their wayward children inside if they wandered, slamming shut their windows. And vendors shook behind their stalls while shop owners didn’t leave their doors open.

And all Yusaku could do was watch through the thin glass of his window, huddled into his apartment with the remaining survivors of the forest, locked away for their own safety. It’s been a week since then, and he doesn’t know if they’re ever going to be free again.

Suzukage breaths in his corner, tossing a rubber ball at the wall and catching it over and over. He’s been doing that for hours now, ever since his cousin Shima snuck in to visit them and left it as a present. He brought them all things to keep them entertained before he had to slip away and back to his family, but Suzukage had taken to the rubber ball.

It’s too bad the sound of that ball hitting the wall was very, very, irritating. “Suzukage, stop it, that sound is bothering Jin.”

Jin, who flinched every time the harsh thumbing sounded through the room, jumped. His eyes widened, turning their shocked gaze to the spot where Yusaku still stood by the window. Takeru lay on the bed with his arms folded under his head, peered open an eye, the scowl on his face easing now that the noise stopped. Suzukage, however, scowls deeply, “I’m so sorry I don’t feel like brooding by the window and waiting for the angry mob to come and get us.”

“No one is coming to get us.” Yusaku tells him bluntly. And this is true, currently the streets are empty of anyone except shaking venders and a few rushing shoppers that have run out of food and materials at home. Yusaku suspects it’ll be another few weeks before things even begin to calm down and people go back to mostly normal. That’s what happened after Spectre was taken, in any case. It took about three months before people stopped being scared the forest would take them in their sleep.

“Yet.” Suzukage muttered, burying his face in his knees for a moment before picking his head up and glaring at the wall. “No one is coming to get us yet.”

Jin shivered on his own bed, pushed in here after his brother rushed to fix the runes, grabbing his own arms as his eyes started to peer nervously out the window. Takeru huffed from his place on Yusaku’s bed, throwing himself up, “Could you be a little more depressing, Suzukage, I don’t think we’re miserable enough yet.”

The green haired boy threw his rubber ball at Takeru, but it was a useless gesture, because the silver and red haired boy was fitter and had better reflexes, catching the projectile easily. He wrinkled his nose, not bothering to throw it back to Suzukage, instead cradling it in his palm and letting it roll between his fingers. “That wasn’t nice.”

Suzukage huffed, burying his face in his knees, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, come on, cheer up.” Takeru tried, he really did. He even managed a shaky smile, but it looked fake on his face. “We can’t be stuck in here too much longer.”

No one believed him, not even Takeru himself believed those words. Yusaku watched Jin’s grey eyes flicker around the room nervously, taking in the hastily redrawn runes. Kusanagi had dozens of mages here rebranding them into the wall, but Yusaku doubted it would do anything. The last runes were twice as powerful and ten times as plentiful, and they still failed. 

Jin shifted again, laying on his side and curling into a ball. The pressure is starting to get to him too, and Yusaku can’t even blame him. In the week they’ve been herded in here there may not have been a repeat of the incident, but their lives have fallen apart. Their families are always nervous fluttering in and out of the room, afraid they may have already disappeared. And Suzukage’s fears weren’t exactly unfounded. On the first day of the rising mists there had been dozens of people outside Cafe Nagi shouting towards their window, throwing rocks, demanding answers for why this was happening. 

He won’t say it out loud and feed the other’s fears, but Yusaku suspects that the town’s people may very well be planning to test killing one of them to prevent the forest from growing stronger. Before, they hadn’t dared, too fearful that the forest would retaliate. But now there’s a sort of hysteria in the air, one that goes with fear well. They may be desperate enough to try now.

Yusaku doesn’t want to know what will happen if they try. If just leaving Den City for a few days had caused the forest to chase his wagon down for a mile, he doesn’t want to even hypothesize what would happen if his life was taken. Or would anything happen? His body would still be here. Would that be enough for the forest? Somehow, he doesn’t think so. 

He reaches out, placing a hand against the cool glass. It’s so unnaturally cold for a summer day, almost burning his skin with it’s chill. It sends goosebumps up his spine, his whole body growing cooler and cooler the longer he touches it. He snatches his hand away, huffing on his fingers to try to summon back warmth to the numb limbs. The glass wasn’t like that yesterday, which means the mist is only getting stronger.

Yusaku very purposely doesn’t mention this fact to the others, holding his arms over his chest. The outside is no different than it was a moment ago, and he can’t help but wonder if only he and the others within the room could feel it.

A self-driving carriage pulled onto the road, stopping just in front of Cafe Nagi. It was a familiar machine, one Yusaku has seen everyday this week, and has seen at least a few times a month even before that. Zaizen Akira steps from within, his cane held loosely in one hand and leather shoes scratching the stone as he steps down. His violet eyes flicker over Cafe Nagi, finding Yusaku in the window. Akira frowns regretfully, and the younger boy instantly distrusts that look.

“Zaizen is here.” Yusaku warns the others, turning to face them. “He seems upset.”

“He’s been upset all week.” Takeru reminds him, folding his legs. “He lost Miyu, everyone has got to be giving him shit.”

“He’s more upset than usual.” Yusaku elaborates, folding his arms. 

“Good, means he’s as miserable as the rest of us.” Suzukage grumbles from his spot in the corner. Then he groans loudly, tugging at his hair, falling on his back and kicking the air like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. “I want leave this fucking rooooooooooom!”

“We all wanna leave the room, but we’re not gonna.” Takeru finally snapped, losing his temper. “Because the second we do we’re gonna get snatched up like...like…”

Takeru struggled to think of what he could compare their situation to. Taking the opening, Jin picked his head up, whispering softly, “Please don’t fight.”

“I’m just saying, we can’t leave.” Takeru scratches his head, wrinkling his nose and frowning. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get to leave again.”

Suzukage groaned, like those words caused him physical pain. He rolled back into a sitting position, hands still dug into his hair, “It’s like we’re stuck in a prison or something. What’s even the point of living if we’re just going to live like this?”

“Better than dying.” Yusaku answered pointedly, though he, too, agreed with Suzukage for the most part. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life locked in this room. He wasn’t convinced Kusanagi would do that. At worst, Kusanagi would eventually recreate all the runes he previously carved into the walls. More perhaps. And the four of them would be allowed to wander the halls of upstairs Cafe Nagi. It would be better than locking the four of them all in a single room, in any case. But it’s still not ideal. Living a life in captivity never is, he supposes, but it’s still better than dying. It wasn’t like they’d be tormented here. They would be safe, and cared for by their friends and family. They could live comfortably. 

It’s just that it wouldn’t be a very content life.

Yusaku can’t say for sure what he planned to do with the future other than use what he learned in school to make a living, but he had wanted _something_ more than this. He still had desires, goals, a mission he wanted to complete. But it will likely never be complete now, not with his future looking so confined.

_I’m sorry_ , he thinks towards a vague memory of a boy long gone, lost to the forest like so many others. The friend that didn’t come back. He had wanted to make something of his life, to make his survival means something, to make sure that it all meant something. But his options while confined here are suddenly very limited. 

Perhaps he can spend life doing research indoors. He certainly finds himself with plenty of time now, assuming the townspeople don’t decide to kill him. And he knows it will be him, because of the survivors that are left, he’s the one without a family or many friends to care for him. The connections he does have are few, and every one of them are closer to another of the survivors. Of all of them, he’s the one that is most likely to be chosen, or volunteered. And no matter what protests the others make, they cannot fight off the whole of Den City. No, it will come down to a choice, and he’s very much aware that he’s the most expendable. No matter how much they care for him, there’s someone they love more at stake.

He’s accepted this fact, and he’s ready if it comes, but he hopes that it doesn’t.

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” Suzukage tells them again, slumping back against the wall. “Kusanagi had this whole place covered, and it still failed.”

“It hasn’t happened again.” Jin gives tentatively, his voice barely a whisper in the wind as he twirls his thumbs nervously. “Maybe...maybe...it means something?”

“It means it’s waiting.” Yusaku tells them both, moving away from the window, no longer wanting to be within the mist’s sight. He’s the only one standing, which is appropriate, because he’s the only one between them with the functional knowledge to venture a guess to how the forest works. “It takes a lot of raw magical energy to burn through a single rune, much less the ones Kusanagi carved everywhere. Add in our hypnosis, and you have a, frankly, absurd amount of raw magical energy flowing.”

“So it used up too much energy?” Takeru perked up, “That’s good to hear! That means it’ll take a long time before it can pull that again! We can prepare for it next time!”

Not necessarily. The thing about the forest is that it seems to have a near endly capacity for producing raw magical energy, to the point of sheer absurdity. It’s real strength seems to be the speed in which it renews its ever growing capacity for magic, and every life it takes only makes it’s storage stronger and deeper. Yusaku can’t say for certain just how strong the forest is at any given moment, but he has a feeling that what it spent trying to take them would come back faster than Takeru hoped. 

He can only learn through observation, he supposes. It’s been a week since the attempt, so it takes at least that long, but he isn’t confident enough to stop counting the number of days between it and the next attempt. And there would be a next attempt. The only thing uncertain was whether or not the townspeople or the forest itself would lose patience first.

But he kept those dark thoughts to himself, letting Takeru’s optimism linger in the room. At the very least, Suzukage and Jin looked slightly comforted by the idea, and Yusaku doesn’t want to take that from them with harsh reality. Not yet. Not until they have a more solid idea of what will happen to them.

Yusaku lets the others talk among themselves, finding a bit of hope in the idea that maybe the forest’s hold on them is gone for now. He moves towards the door, leaning against it and straining his ears trying to listen in case Zaizen has brought his business upstairs. But no, he can’t hear anything but tentative footsteps, ones that sound like Takeru’s grandfather. It must be his turn to watch them. Whatever reason Zaizen is here today, he’s conducting it downstairs, probably in hushed whispers.

The lack of knowledge does little to ease the building suspicions within him. It digs at his skin, and leaves him with a sudden sense of restlessness that isn’t at all helped by the limited space around him. He paced back to the window, peering out again with a sudden sense of paranoia, but nothing has changed within the minute or so that Yusaku let himself wander away. Well, nothing but more gathered mist. 

Frowning, he touches the glass again, feeling the same chill spread through him. He narrows his green eyes, daring to peer deeper into the mist, towards the treetops. The fog is too thick to see them clearly at that distance, but he can feel...something.. It’s not pulling him forward, no. It’s almost like…

Oh, it’s watching him.

Yusaku sighs, dropping his hand. He’s not even surprised, he’s known the forest was watching him the whole time. It’s just that he hadn’t expected it to be so tangible that he could feel it this intensely, like eyes physically burning into him. He moves away again, feeling restless, rubbing his hands together and trying to distract himself from the gnawing feeling of dread pooling his stomach. He firmly settles his eyes on the others, watching them speak softly among one another. He shuffles towards the nearest bed, forcing himself to settle onto the mattress and relax. He pretends to listen to the prattle of his housemates, but none of it processes, his attention too divided by the many different worries he finds himself facing.

Worry begins to spread as he stews on his thoughts, it’s worries he’s had for a week, but the look on Zaizen’s face makes it all bubble forward, like the pressure is all finally bursting forward. He’s careful to keep his body still and calm, but it makes all else hard to process. Time slows to a crawl, and the feeling of foreboding doesn’t end as the seconds creep by.

His skin crawls as he hears the distant sounds of the stairs creaking. His ears strain, trying to pinpoint who is moving up the stairs, only for him to realize the footsteps are both unfamiliar and coming for their room.

Yusaku stands before the knock hits the door, and the others fall into silence around him. The knocker doesn’t wait for an answer, turning the knob to their door and creaking it open gently. Zaizen peers his violent eyes inside, face twisted in regret. A pale face Kusanagi stands behind him, Takeru’s grandfather on the other side.

“Boys.” Zaizen coughs into his hand, jaw trembling the slightest bit. “I need you to come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Yusaku asks calmly, step forward. Takeru stands as well, sizing up behind him, and Jin ducks behind Yusaku’s back, his thin fingers immediately reaching out and twisting into the back of his shirt. He can’t see what happened to Suzukage out of the corner of his eye, but he has gone very, very, quiet for someone as loud and opinionated as himself.

Zaizen’s lips thin, his knuckles going white around the doorknob before he speaks, “I’m here to make sure you’re safely delivered to the courthouse. The council has decided...they want to hear your version of what happened the night Miyu disappeared.”

Jin shifted nervously behind him, hands shaking. Yusaku doesn’t move to comfort him, simply standing there, acting as a shield as he studies the men outside their door. Takeru is the one that moves to shield him, speaking on his behalf as well, “But didn’t you guys already tell them everything?”

Zaizen closes his eyes for a long time, cracking them open again, irises shining with pity, “They want to hear it from you.”

That was a nice way of saying they were on trial. Yusaku’s fist clenched at his side, his shoulders tensing as his nerves steeled. It would seem Suzukage was very, very, correct about his assumptions that the city was coming for them, it’s just presented a lot more insidiously. Instead of the marching mob of billowing torches and pitchforks like the others had probably imagined, they’re being practically arrested. But a more dressed up version of arrest, with the sordid intentions hidden behind a layer of seeming politeness. 

“They just want to hear it from us?” Suzukage’s shaky voice asked, from somewhere behind him, uncertain, “They just want our side of the story?”

“Yes.” Zaizen nodded, hand shaking slightly as he held that doorknob. “I’m afraid they want to verify that all the information is true themselves.”

Jin’s hands become impossibly tight, Yusaku’s shirt squeezing him from how tightly it was being pulled against him. All he can do is grimly accept his fate, knowing very well that resistance would only end in something far, far, worse. So, taking the initiative, he steps forward, “We’ll go peacefully and share our story.”

Takeru side-eyes him, jaw locking. He’s not happy about this, and his whole body is tense and coiled, ready to strike. But he always trusted Yusaku’s judgement, so he withholds himself, reluctantly. Suzukage comes into view, standing beside Takeru with a pale face, trembling slightly as his fears are realized. Yusaku moves his eyes forward, deciding to move forward and focus on getting them through this.

They won’t be the ones to die, he’s already decided this. If the worst should happen, it will happen to him. 

He walks silently, unintentionally dragging Jin along as he goes. The other boy doesn’t let him go, his hands trembling as Yusaku steps forward unflinchingly. He hears Takeru tensely following him, and assumes Suzukage is taking up the rear. 

He slips past Zaizen, facing Takeru’s grandfather and Kusanagi’s pale faces. Both are frozen in wide eyed horror, but Kusanagi moves when he sees Jin, reaching out to grab his upper arm, “I’ll get you out of there. No matter what. Just stick with Yusaku until then.”

Yusaku nods, humming as he takes the silent order to heart. Protect Jin at all costs. It’s a promise he makes with a simple nod and a sharpening of his gaze, determination burning in his heart. Kusanagi doesn’t trust just anyone with Jin, and Yusaku isn’t going to let himself fail, not when the older man is trusting him with his entire world. 

They don’t need to exchange words, they just lock eyes, and Yusaku nods firmly before turning away, the still clinging Jin following him as they march down the stairs.

He _feels_ it the moment they cross the line between Kusanagi’s new rune work and the rest of the cafe. The cold takes him immediately, somehow burning more intensely than touching the plane of glass. He nearly choked from the shock of it, the goosebumps forming across his skin. He shivered minutely, forcing his jaw shut to keep his teeth from clacking together. Jin audibly shivered behind him, hands shaking even more and breaths taking a shutter. Both Takeru and Suzukage yelped in surprise, the latter of the two even sputtering, “Wh-why is i-it so cold in s-s-summer!”

Zaizen spoke from the top of the stairs where he followed after them, “I find the weather rather humid and warm, actually.”

Of course he did.

Yusaku forced himself forward, ignoring the icy fingertips trailing over his skin. He didn’t mind Jin burying his face in the back of his shirt, the other boy’s hot breath huffing against his back as he tried to huddle for warmth. Takeru couldn’t even talk as he joined in, rushing forward and gluing himself to Yusaku’s side, the natural heat of his own body doing little. Suzukage, by contrast, settled for complaining loudly to Zaizen. 

By the time they reached Zaizen’s self driving carriage Yusaku’s whole body was trembling. It may as well have been winter outside, as far as he was concerned, and he couldn’t crawl into the carriage soon enough, throwing himself into the plush velvet seating. It was slightly warmer in here, but it still felt almost unbearable, and every inch of him felt like frozen fish hooks pierced his skin and was pulling him towards...towards...the forest.

Of course.

He can’t do anything but shiver in his seat, so focused on keeping his core warm and keeping himself from launching towards the promise of warmth that he didn’t even know if Jin and Takeru were holding him. He felt the carriage move beneath him, but he failed to hear anything Zaizen or the others said. 

Even winter has never been so cold. How can no one else feel this? The forest had a special power of them, it’s true, but how can the air be so frigid only to themselves? This wasn’t a dream or invasion of the mind, he could feel this in his _bones._ This had to be a change in the very air around them, but he couldn’t feel anything. 

He doesn’t even realize they’ve made it to the inner city until the cold disappears. It’s like a snapping twig, leaving suddenly and all at once. He takes a shuddering breath, feeling warmth spread through his fingers again. Green eyes crack open, and all he can see for a moment is Suzukage’s green hair overtaking his vision. He picks up his face, peering past the boy and towards Zaizen, who was midway through crawling out of the carriage. 

It was then Yusaku heard the sound of many, many, voices. Suzukage seemed to have heard it too, picking himself up and crawling to the window, peering out of the window and letting out a curse as he immediately threw himself back, “There’s a _lot_ of people out there.”

Yusaku feels displeasure burn in him as he pushes himself up from the velvet seating. Jin is still clinging to him, as it turns out, and both his arms have wrapped around Yusaku’s left arm. He doesn’t want to move, but he wants to let go of the blue haired boy even less, so he lets himself be dragged along as Yusaku braves the crowd.

There really is a whole crowd of people gathered. They’re nobles and merchants, every one of them. All the people who could afford to live within the inner city walls. They’re all finely dressed in satin and silks and lace. Large gems hang for ladies' ears and necks, or in their done up hair and hand painted fans, and men supported fine jewel encrusted canes or belts. A wall of police stood between them and the crowd, holding back the wealthier citizens and carving a line for them to follow Zaizen into the gates of a large and towering building that Yusaku recognized very well.

The Court House.

An intimidating open building that was more like a theater than a building, covered head to toe in mechanical gargoyles that acted as guard dogs, the Court House was where the city council gathered to publicly make laws or give hearings. It also doubled as a prison, the cells built in stone halls underground, lit by lamps and no sunlight in sight. 

No wonder he couldn’t feel the forest anymore. The Court House was the most heavily rune warded structure in the city. It was also notoriously only used for criminals of incredible macabre and sadistic crimes, crimes that the public wants to see punished with their own eyes, crimes the council wants to show being punished. 

“Oh fuck.” Takeru breaths from beside him, “We’re not here to tell our story guys.”

Suzukage groans loudly, his eyes tearing up as he walks forward. His voice is broken when he speaks, “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die.”

“They can’t kill us.” Yusaku states, moving forward with his usual apathy, “They don’t know what will happen if they kill us.”

“They only use this place when they plan to kill people, Yusaku.” Suzukage gave a pained moan, his cheeks growing wet as they’re led through a set of giant iron double doors. They slammed shut behind them, and Jin was left near whimpering as they were temporarily stuck in darkness. Lamps light up as Zaizen leads them down the hall, casting dancing shadows against his skin. Suzukage’s whimpers bounce off the walls, and Yusaku feel’s Takeru’s hand reach out and wrap strongly around his upper arm.

None of the cells they passed contained prisoners. 

Zaizen doesn’t stop in any of the cells either, instead he leads them to a room with a few police, a table set with four white sets of clothes laying across its surface, easily recognizable to anyone that’s ever ventured to watch the trials of the Court House. A prisoner’s uniform. 

“No.” Takeru folds his arms, eyes glaring fiercely at Zaizen, “You lied to us. You said we were just telling our story. Kusanagi and my grandpa would have never let you bring us here if they knew you were pulling this shit.”

“I’m sorry.” Zaizen did genuinely seem remorseful as he spoke, holding his cane in both hands tightly, “But they would have fought, and they would have died. It took all my influence to keep them from burning your home down.”

“So that’s how it is.” Yusaku tested evenly, “They’re just going to risk killing us?”

“I tried to talk them out of it.” The man’s hands shake as he says this, and it seems he can no longer bear to face them, because he turns away in shame. “But they’re convinced that if the forest is allowed to keep obtaining you then we’ll be lost, and it’s very clear we have no way to protect you. And we’ve learned years ago that simply sending you away from the city will only cause it to chase you.”

“So, what? You’re just going to kill us?” Takeru might as well have growled the words, his expression a fierce snarl as he steps forward threateningly, “Do you really think we’ll let that happen?”

“Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Zaizen’s shoulders slump, his face looking down to stare at his feet, “I really did try, but there’s nothing I can do. Anything else will only result in more death.”

“So this is really the best the council can do?” Yusaku feels a little anger bleed into his voice, his hands tightening by his side, “They’re just going to kill all of us without even knowing whether or not it will work?”

“No.” Zaizen looked up again, but still refused to face them. “We intend to sacrifice you in the name of both removing the danger from our community and strengthening our wards.”

Yusaku’s blood chilled.

“Sacrifice!” Suzukage wasn’t bothering to hold back tears now, “You’re just gonna butcher us? Like...like...old cult magic shit? Isn’t that...that’s illegal!”

“The circumstances have changed.” Zaizen’s hands tightened around his cane again, “You’re a danger to everyone in this city, and something must be done. Every day you’re left to wonder is another day we court death.”

“I’m not wearing a prisoner’s uniform.” Takeru spit, eyes burning on Zaizen, his fist raising, “And you’ll have to fight me before I go out there.”

The police all moved forward, hands moving to their batons. The air filled with the hum of static, and thin blue lines of electricity dancing across their surface as they all stepped forward as one. Jin let out a shuddering breath, and Yusaku even felt his own body tense as Suzukage let out a fearful cry. Takeru flinched, but didn’t drop his fists, though he was shaking fearfully now. The old and primal fear filling them all as their skin tingled with the unforgotten consequences of pain they’ve only half forgotten.

“I’m afraid none of us have a choice in the matter boys.” Zaizen finally turned to them, giving a broken smile, “Please, get dressed. Maybe...maybe I can convince them to stop if the wards are strong enough after the first death or two. Then we can...can just...keep you here.”

It’s not a good sign, it’s not even something Zaizen sounds like he believes, but it is an opening that Yusaku has been looking for. So, grabbing his shirt by the hem, he pulls it up, startling Jin as he slips it off and dislodges himself from the boy.

Zaizen makes a startled noise and looks away from his bare chest, his abysmally small breasts hanging loosely and improperly covered, the curse of his female born body aiding him for just a moment. But most of the police don’t look away, openly ogling his bare chested form even though there was nothing impressive there, only lichtenberg figures staining his arms and neck and breasts that haven’t grown since he first hit puberty. Regardless, some gave wolf whistles as he moves forward, seizing one of the white prison garbs.

“Mr... _Ms_ Fujiki, if I had known…” Zaizen hastily tries, ears red and still looking firmly away.

“It’s Mr.” Yusaku states blandly, pulling the shirt over his head, “I’m afraid I’m perfectly male, I just have extra assets. Hardly the most notable thing about me.”

Some of the police now looked more warily at him, likely wondering if his breasts were a result of whatever happened to him in the forest. Yusaku didn’t care to enlighten them, dropping his pants now that the gown fell to his knees. He still felt far too exposed, the whole of his upper back exposed, to make for easier aim for an executioner they say. It doesn’t matter, he’s ready either way. He steels himself, stepping up to Zaizen, “Test it on me. If it doesn’t work, they go home.”

“Oh _hells no_.” Takeru shouted, step forward, “Yusaku! I’m not letting yo-AH!”

One of the police moved forward and shocked him in the side, sending him sprawling on the ground and screaming. Jin’s whole form trembled as tears ran down his cheeks in rivers. Suzukage’s wails filled the whole room, bouncing off the walls like a terrible opera of despair.

“Stop it!” Yusaku demanded, stomping his now bare feet on the stone. “I’m going first, so leave him alone!”

Zaizen tapped his cane against the ground, the sound ringing through the room, “You heard...him...that’s enough. The boy can’t even stand anymore.”

The police moved away, leaving Takeru huddled on the ground and convulsing in pain. Yusaku had to resist the urge to rush to his friend’s side, his fingers twitching nervously as Jin fell to his knees and tried to wake Takeru from his delirium. 

“You’ll be first, Yusaku.” Zaize spoke calmly, his eyes shining with regret, “Please follow me, and don’t try anything I wouldn’t.”

Another pair of double doors flung open, leading to a hall of eerie darkness to which Zaizen entered, a string of dull yellow oil lamps coming to life as he walked past, the flames flickering as he moved. A portion of the police suddenly surrounded him, one pushing him forward until he stumbled on his feet and into the hallway.

“Yusaku! No!” Suzukage called out as the doors slammed shut behind him, cutting him off from the others. Only two of the police were with him, and both seized him but the upper arms, practically lifting him off the ground and hulling him down the hall, leaving him now choice on the matter of following Zaizen. His feet barely hovered above the stone, their grips strong as he was carried off to his execution. 

He hoped this backfired, at least. Or that his death would buy the others some time while Kusanagi or one of their allies figured out what was going on. At the very least Zaizen was about to ruin his relationship with his sister, and while Aoi didn’t deserve this shit, Yusaku couldn’t help but feel vindictively satisfied by the idea. 

Petty, true, but Zaizen was about to kill him, he’s allowed to be a little petty.

Another set of iron gates swung open, and Yusaku found himself dragged out to his very public, very unprepared for, and very illegal trial. 

It seemed like the whole damn city must have gathered for the show. He could see nobles in plush seats waving fans, he could see paper boys hanging off the edges of walls to catch a view, he could see mill workers sitting on the rafts. He even sees a few people he can recognize; classmates, the baker from across the lane, the seamstress that made his clothes. Not people he could name, but certainly faces he knew. 

Aoi was there, trying to break through a wall of police, banging her fists against their chests, shouting things. It made him sad, seeing her like this, she looked like a mess. Even from so far down he could see her, bag eyed and clearly ill rested. Eventually Ema and Go came to her side, taking her by her arms and dragging her away as she kicked and screamed.

  
  


Yusaku found his stomach twisting at the sight, forcing himself to look away and face what was to come instead. A stage, where he would stand on a platform before the council itself.

The council was made up of the most powerful people in the city. Queen, the owner of SOLtech, producers of Magitech. Then there was Bishop, the head of the Magical Academy, Rook the Mayor, Knight the head of the police and defenses, Pawn the head of trade and commerce. Together they would decide his fate. 

Or Queen would.

She stood from the center, her red velvet dress billowing as she does, giant dewdrop earrings gleaming in the sun. She stares down at him with cold, unfeeling, eyes, lips pursing. Her neck has a giant jewel hanging from it, lying surrounded by many smaller gems. The amount of magic she must have poured into them was incredible. Yusaku would admire it if they didn’t spell his doom.

Zaizen coughed into his hand, standing straight as he addressed the woman with a now booming voice, “Your grace, I have brought with me the first volunteer for trial. The sixth survivor of the forest, Fujiki Yusaku.” 

Queen looked at him then, really looked at him, with something bordering on resentment. It was only a flash, only for a moment, and then it was gone in a flash. She spoke then, voice calm, “Fujiki Yusaku, you stand before the citizens of Den City, responsible for the misery that has haunted us for over a decade.” 

The crowd all booed. Green eyes flickered over the crowd, watching both people he has never met and people he knew throw him thumbs down. Some cupped their mouths, howling at him, and others still only watched while others looked away in shame and grief. Not wanting to take in the sight anymore, he looked back towards the council, ready to hear more of their decision. 

This was it, this was how he died, with Queen’s cold eyes burning into him.

“For your part in this crime, you have been sentenced to remedy the situation.” Queen raised a hand, rubbing one of those gems between her fingers. “With banishment optional and imprisonment unreliable, we sentence you to death via ritual sacrifice. May your life bring us safety and prosperity.” 

That was it? No evidence? No defense? No chance to speak for himself? Just immediate sentencing? Well, that was highly illegal, but he supposes he’s not surprised. It was only a matter of time until Queen took full tyranny. From what he’s heard, it’s been coming since King died. 

“Do I not-” But he didn’t get a chance to finish, because the police at his side jerked him down, slamming him to the floor of the platform. He hissed, glaring at them, but neither showed any sign they cared.

The crows shouted something, and Yusaku looked out, only to find his executioner entering the trial area, an iron rod in his hand.

Oh.

_Oh no._

Yusaku moved to stand, trying to push himself to his feet, but the police caught either arm. He struggled against them, hissing and spitting low curses, but they were both much stronger than he was, and he already had frail health to begin with. His struggles were useless against them, and his executioner came closer and closer with the rod.

A branding rod. 

The tip of the rod turned red as the executioner stood over him, the sounds of the crowd a distant drum. He heard a furious cry, and he had just long enough to glance into the crowd to see a head of silver hair shouting and pushing at some guards before his attention was stolen away by the executioner.

“For our protection we offer you a sacrifice of pain.” The man spoke a familiar prayer, the rune carved on the end of the rod was a bright cherry red now, and he could recognize it. A warding rune, offering his pain, making it stronger, and then his life to fuel it forever. A true sacrifice. 

The police lifted the white shirt, exposing his stomach. He struggled again, kicking widely, but it only made what was to come worse as the brand was pressed just over his abdomen. The pain was immediate, a burning like he’d never felt before, a _pain_ like he hadn’t felt in years. There was a sizzling in his ears, even over the dull roar of the crowd, and the _smell_. It was like nothing he’d ever smelt before, sickening in a way he couldn’t imagine.

Yusaku likes to think he’s a rather subdued person, but no one could blame him for the scream that rips through him. It’s so loud, loud enough to drown out the sizzling, and the crowd. He knows he drops to his knees in that time, but he can’t register anything but his own screams and the agony. 

And by the time awareness comes back to him, there’s only silence.

Yusaku is honestly more surprised he’s alive by this point, but he isn’t going to question it while he _is_ alive. So he pushes himself up, his whole body aching with agony, throbbing with pain as he realizes he’d somehow become sprawled on the platform’s floor without the police holding him up. He coughed, looking up, trying to look up to see why his executioner hadn’t taken a knife to him yet.

It seemed the man had fully intended to end him, a sharp dagger held firmly in his grip. But, for whatever reason, he was backed away, off the platform, Too far away to end Yusaku. The police, too, had backed away, and the crowd had fallen into a hushed silence.

Why?

“Get him out of there!” An achingly familiar voice sounded through the silence, and Yusaku looked up, his eyes meeting panicked blue irises for a moment. “I’m coming for you! Hang on!”

And then he heard why everyone had stopped.

The scream that sounded through the air was much louder and sharper than his own had been. It didn’t sound like a singular scream either. No, it was a howling, blood curdling, thing. A thousand voices as one, carried over distant winds, sounding from the forest and ringing through the air loud enough to leave him in agony.

His abdomen burned again, and he tried to clutch the fresh burn, only to recoil at the terrible pain that stabs through him. He hasn’t hurt this bad in so long, and he finds the strength zapped out of him as he falls to his side, hitting the hard wood with a thud. The forest screams again, and this time the crowd joins it as _something_ happens. 

“Yusaku!” Someone calls his name, but he can’t tell who. He hurts too much, and his eyes hurt too much, and he lets them slip closed as people around him scream and call out for someone to do something. His executioner moves with his dagger, his shaking hand raising it as lightly rolling the top over Yusaku’s neck, but it never comes down.

He can’t say the way, because everything goes dark for a moment, and the next time he wakes he’s being carried by the police again, dragged over cobblestones.

And then when he blinked again he was standing on the edge of the forest, fearful shaking and crying sounding behind him. But he doesn’t understand anything anymore, much less how he got here. He’s not even really standing, he realizes. Someone is holding him up, on the edge of the forest, where the cool mist is kissing his body all over, and the tree's roots are moving for him. He has enough time to understand that he's standing on the boarder of the forest outside the city gates before the rough hands holding him up let go of him. "We beg forgiveness! Take your prize!"

And then he’s pushed inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I took things from zero to a hundred and make poor Yusaku suffer in ways I never thought I'd make him suffer while his friends and family and Ryouken are helpless to do anything. 
> 
> Poor Aoi and Ryouken, they were in the crowd trying to stop this nonsense. Now the most sensible of the Lost Children have all best lost to the forest. Rip.


	4. Chapter 4

The mist is so thick within the woods that, at first, Yusaku has trouble seeing more than a foot ahead of him. But this statement may also be inaccurate, because the world whirls by oh so quickly as he finds himself buried into soggy loam, body twisting and convulsing in pain as the branding on his body pulses and throbs with burning pain.

“Ah.” His fingers twist in that wet soil, too soft for a forest. There’s no grass beneath him, and the white sackcloth does little to protect him from the ground, rubbing the tender would and leaving him feverish and itchy as his body physically twitches. 

“Ah.” He scrambles, forcing his arms under up and pushing up. But the ground is slippery beneath his fleshy hands, and he slips back to the ground, hitting the brand and leaving a stabbing pain behind. He cries out loudly, pained tears involuntarily leaking from the edges of his eyes as dark spots dance across his already blurred vision. But he’s not willing to give up, so he clenches his teeth and hisses, forcing his arms back into position and pushing himself up even as his blood burns and his veins scream.

The cool mist kisses his skin as he raises, easing the pain of the burn just a bit. It’s an achingly familiar feeling, one he hisses at through his teeth, hating the feeling. 

He stands on wobbling legs, weak and practically made of jam at this point. He leans against a tree, or he thought it was a tree. Soon he realized that it was just a _root_ , just a root so large that it breaks through the soil and grows as high and thick as a horse. Yusaku blinks his blurry vision, trying to comprehend how tall it was, before looking around and realizing they’re _all_ that thick and tall. The watch him with faces twisted into their trunks, eyes etched in ever narrowed slits, sap leaking from them in inky black rivers that leave him squirming at the sight. Some of them can move their lips, trying to mouth words at him silently, but he turns away from the sight of the endless holes inside their mouths, sometimes filled with bugs or maggots.

Yusaku shutters, half in pain and half in paranoid worry. He turns, intending to escape back to the road which he was only just thrown from, but it’s _gone_. The familiar dirt path nowhere in sight, only miles and miles of endless mist and trees laid out before him. He shutters again, legs losing strength and falling back against the harsh bark of the tree root, head falling back as he slid back down, landing onto the loam.

The mist thickened a bit, then thinned, and Yusaku could not do anything but watch, body throbbing, as the air surrounding the forest seemed to shift.

There’s something there, he realizes, something twisting in the air. His eyes narrow, peering into the mist as it seems to fade just a bit, pulling back as _something_ happens. The shadows beneath the roots stretch and twist, expanding for their hiding places as the mist pulls back just far enough for a bit of sunlight to peer through the treetops, letting them form.

And then they start pulling themselves from the ground.

They pull themselves from the earth, fresh soil breaking as they drag themselves from underground with long and knurling claws. Monsters with too many eyes and too many teeth, knitting to life before his eyes, muscle and bone born from twisting matter, forming a solid from shadow, black veins and translucent skin spreading across that flesh as they finish pulling themselves from nothingness. They twist to life from the mist, flesh and vein and blood and bone stitching to life from seemingly nothing. 

When they stand, they stand tall and lanky, like newborns taking their first steps. A few fall, others curl onto all fours and crawl on their sharp talons. But most walk, eyes blinking open and flowing with eerie light as they grin with their too wide mouths and too sharp teeth. They stumble like toddlers, some standing half as tall as the towering trees, some barely up to his knees, some thin as twigs, some wide as bulls. Some look almost like people, others like animals, others still like nothing he’s ever laid eyes on before. But all of them watch him, their eyes blinking out of sync, their smiles twisting hungrily. 

They’re moving towards him, he realizes with a jolt. He struggles to stand again, bare feet slipping and agitating the raw branding on his underbelly, it leaves him crying in pain, ears ringing just a bit. He blinks away tears, looking back towards the lumbering creatures, still crawling towards him with their hungry eyes.

This time he manages to force himself to his feet, adrenaline pushing him upward, allowing him to ignore the pain if only for a few fleeting blissful moments. He stumbles as well, but his steps are easier than theirs, years of experience in simply existing aiding him in his flight. He leans against the trees, fleeing them, but the creatures seem to come from all around, circling in on him. Yusaku hisses, eyes flickering everywhere to find the best places to dodge and weave away from them. He ducks beneath a wide root, running past many of the shadows, fleeing their hunger.

The roots part as he runs, creating a path down which he can travel easy, like a parting sea. It’s suspicious, but he can’t afford to question it, not with those things behind him. So he follows it, running as fast as his jellied legs can carry him. He runs as fast and far as he can, the adrenaline rushing through his veins like burning acid. Breathing becomes a labored thing as sweat drenches his body, and he doesn’t dare to look back, simply running forward as the trees part.

Eventually his body gives out, too weak to go on. He’s used up, energy gone, everything just pain and agony as he falls to the ground. The world is a dizzying and unclear whirlwind, nausea twisting in the back of his throat. His face is buried in the dirt again. He’s inhaling bits of dirt, causing his lungs to itch. His body is trembling again, shaking so uncontrollably he can’t even move his limbs anymore. A coughing fit leaves his lips as he curls in a ball on the dirt, toes bending inward as the tree roots crawl back towards him, the path destroyed now that he can no longer run.

Yusaku is fairly certain that he may die here.

The boy manages to bring a shaking hand to his forehead, feeling the heat build beneath the skin. He doesn’t know if it’s overheating from the exertion, or if he’s building a fever from the strain which his body has been through. He tries to recall any and all medical knowledge he’d learned in school, trying to piece together what, exactly, would happen to his body now that he’s been branded by a rune and lived.

He thinks infection might be a danger. One, untreated burns and cuts get infected, so even if he’s escaped the creatures there’s a good chance he can die from untreated wounds. Two, that wasn’t even considering what would happen if he didn’t find safe food and drink. Three, he couldn’t even move his body, so chances were that something would be upon him any moment now.

His chances were looking grim, he realized feverishly. No matter what happens, he will meet a grizzly end.

He couldn’t accept that.

He wouldn’t accept that.

So he forces his arms under him again, ignoring the screaming in his limbs, pushing himself upwards. But his body may as well be made of stone; it felt so heavy. He hisses as his hand slips, and he once again lands face first in the dirt, his wound rubbing the ground painfully. Tears sprang to his eyes once again, and every part of him curls in on itself once again.

Yusaku hissed, he didn’t want to die here, laying in the dirt. 

But he’s shaking and heavy, and there’s too much pain to try again. He sucks his breath between his teeth, waiting for _something_ to happen. But the only change is the darkening of his vision, black overtaking him as, for just a moment, nothing hurts anymore. 

A blink is all it last, and he comes to with a gasp. He sputters and coughs, body still thrumming still as the violent hacks leave his lips in uncontrolled fits. He blinks again, and finds that the mist has thickened again. How much time passed he couldn’t say, but somehow he has survived so far.

It’s not a victory that will last long.

Next to him, kneeling on its haunches, is a monster. A monster with a wolf’s head and nine eyes, each glowing a different eerily in the mist. It’s body was long and bipedal, it’s ribs breaking through skin like a gory cage. The hand was like a man’s, but as large as his chest, with curled talons that could wrap around his entire body. But it’s fangs were easily the most noticeable part about it, long and sharp, and dripping with green that burned the earth as it dripped from teeth. 

The creature reached out it’s black, fleshy, hand and wrapped it around Yusaku’s body. The boy hissed, agony ripping through him as the creature lifted him and let his body drape in it’s palm as it stood and began walking.

“Let go of me.” Yusaku hissed despite the pain, limps hanging weakly. The words were more heavily slurred than he liked, and probably didn’t sound like actual words at all. Regardless, the creature did not heed him, simply standing tall and walking forwards, it’s feet snapping some of the thick roots on the ground as it moved.

Every movement made his body jolt, and every jolt left more pain. He hissed again, pinching his eyes closed as his limbs swung with the motion. Back and forth they went, and yet Yusaku couldn’t do anything but hiss at the beast, “Put me down.”

The monster looked at him, peering with those eyes, lips pulling too far back in a snarling grin. Yusaku couldn’t do anything but lay there in it’s hands, eyes narrowed resentfully at the sky and lips pulled back in a snarl.

Overhead, the mist circles still, like a living entity all its own. Faceless and yet personally, somehow. An identity he recognizes, something he knows. Someone he knew. Something as old and familiar to him as...as…

His eyes slip closed.

Breath. In, out, in, out. One breath at a time, three at a time. You just need to move three at a time. Just three things and you can make it. Three things to live. Three things to live. Three things to live. One, he can’t leave the others behind. Two, he has to make something of his life. Three, if he dies here than all the sacrifices that bought him this much life were wasted.

Another breath, slow and steady, a mere whisper on his lips. The pain is still overwhelming, but the fear and anxiety is gone. Now his mind is clearer than it’s ever been, the calling that’s always been present in the back of is mind _gone._ Gone and weightless now, a burden he’d become so used to that he seldom even realized…

Green eyes peer open, hazy and uncertain. The beast still lumbers over him, but he doesn’t feel afraid anymore. It’s not wise, but he feels content. Is this acceptance? The realization that he could no longer fight? Perhaps. 

It’s oddly calm. He had thought he would die screaming, but the pain wracking his body does little to challenge his newfound peace. How strange. He was a being born of violence, one he thought would end in vengeance and anger and the burning of rage. He thought he would die with fire in his eyes and venom on his tongue. Peace is something he’d never truly known, not in so long that he’d forgotten the taste. 

“Are you going to kill me?” He asks the beast. The creature leers down at him again, unnatural eyes blinking out of sync. It raises its other hand, fingers wiggling and bending unnaturally as it twists it’s wrists like the neck of an owl, pressing the back of the palm against his cheek. His cheek mushes in, the hand so much larger than his face that it cast shadow over his body. For a terrifying moment, Yusaku thought it intended to squish him between it’s two large hands. But that moment did not come. Instead the beast merely caressed his cheek almost gently.

Yusaku’s brows furrowed, lips thinning as he peered upon the beast. “Are you…?

But his lips are dry, as and his throat is course and soar, and the pain is too much for this brief peace to last. So his eyes fall shut again, and they do not open again for a long while. Not until the movement stops walking, and he feels the creature lower him to the ground again.

Or, more accurately, on a patch of what feels like grass, his back pressed against a tree.

It’s harder to open his eyes this time. Perhaps he had started to slip away in the creature’s grasp, or perhaps he’d used up all his energy already, but opening his eyes again felt more strenuous than anything else he’s done today. But when they open he finds himself alone beneath a tree of purple and pink blossoms.

Oh.

A wisteria tree, how typical.

He would die beneath the tree he is named for. Full bloom too, with petals gently caressed by the breeze that suddenly seems to billow. Is it...sunny? It’s sunny here, and he’s been left in the shadow of this tree.

Ah, he understands now. This is some sort of sick version of kindness. The beast had brought him here to die in comfort, perhaps. It’s funny, in a way. A beast wanted him to die comfortably where people he’d known threw him to the woods. And yet, he doesn’t know which he’d prefer; dying alone in the fearsome forest, or dying beneath a wedding tree. 

It’s almost laughable.

He hasn’t stood under a wisteria tree since…

_"Okay, I'll marry you, and we'll be together forever!"_

This time he can’t help the sad little laugh that leaves his lips. The distant memory burns worse than the branding could ever hope. The bitter taste lingering like blood on his tongue. He knows that two small children stumbling through made up wedding vows beneath a tree to recreate an old folk legend shouldn’t affect him so starkly, but the loss of his childhood friend has haunted him since the day they escaped the forest.

He wishes he could remember what happened, but all he knows is that boy is gone now. 

  
  


If you get married beneath a wisteria tree then you’ll be together forever. That’s how the story goes anyway. There’s a big wisteria tree in all of Den City’s parks where couples seem to marry every spring in hopes that their love will last beyond eternity. But Yusaku hasn’t believed in such fantasies since he was a child.

“Stop being bitter.” He whispers to himself despite his dry throat and the feverish heat in his skin. “It wasn’t even a real wedding. Your veil was a strip of cloth the seamstress threw away.”

Green eyes slip closed again, his head falling back against the trunk. Whatever strength he had left leaving him at last. This is it, this is finally the end. He can feel himself slipping away now. So he takes a last breath and thinks of the boy he’d failed to live for.

...except then he wakes up.

Again.

Death, it seemed, wasn’t done jerking him around yet. It would be nice if it decided to make up its mind about when he would slip away. 

But right now isn’t it, because there’s a hand lightly slapping his cheek, “Fujiki. Fujiki, come now, wake up.”

It seems life isn’t done with him yet after all. The realization sparks something in him, the will to fight again renewed with hope introduced. A chance to survive has reached him, and that’s enough to help him force open his too heavy eyelids even with his complete lack of energy. 

Familiar blue eyes look back at him, eyes he’d never thought he’d see again. Framed by golden threads of straight hair falling down to his chin. 

Spectre.

If he were anything less than absolutely exhausted he might be shocked by the sight of his long thought lost housemate. And there’s a vague sense of surprise somewhere deep inside him, but it’s easily overshadowed by numb acceptance. He tries to speak, to ask the other what he’s doing here and how he survived, but all that leaves his lips are another sputtering round of coughing and some pained wheezing. 

“Oh dear.” Spectre responds like he’d spilled milk rather than found his former housemate dying. “You’re certainly worse for wear.”

Jackass.

Spectre moves his body, letting his forehead fall against the platinum haired boy’s shoulder. The green tunic..robe...thing he’s wearing is silky smooth and cool to the touch. It feels amazing against his feverish skin. So he leaves his head in that position, hoping that somehow his fever will break if he does.

“You’re shaking.” Spectre pats his arms, “Fujiki, tell me where they hurt you.”

Bastard, wanting him to speak. Yusaku can barely string together a straight thought. He does try though, because it’s Spectre and he always wants to be contrary around the man. But he just ends up slurring something that doesn’t sound anything like his answers, coughing again.

“Alright, let’s check you over then.” Spectre pushes him back, making Yusaku’s back bump against the tree trunk harshly. He groans as another stabbing pain erupts because of the harsh treatment, gasping for breath as the other man starts peeling at the rough material of his prison shirt, lifting it up just enough to see. The other boy let out a sharp hiss upon seeing the branding, his finger poking Yusaku’s stomach and circling just around the tender skin, “They _branded_ you? How barbaric.”

He coughs again, whole body wracking.

“It’s no wonder we couldn’t find you.” Spectre sounded absolutely disgusted, his finger still running circles around the aching wound. “I can’t even begin to heal it. This is going to need Aqua’s help, and even then...”

It didn’t matter to Yusaku, so long as the wound _could_ be healed. So he tries to give a shaky nod. Whether or not he succeeds is a matter of debate. But Spectre at least stops circling the branding, reaching his hands up to cup Yusaku’s face, “Stay awake Fujiki.”

He’s trying, but he’s so tired.

There’s a muffled sound as Spectre moves. Yusaku is leaned back against the tree, and his fellow survivor stood up, raising his hand into the air as a ball of light rose from his palm, lifting to the air and shooting off rapidly and letting out an explosion of rapid light. 

Yusaku has to close his eyes again, it’s too much strain for his eyes to look. But he knows that spell. It’s a flare spell, one of the first you learn in the academy. He hadn’t realized Spectre had learned it before he disappeared into the woods. Or maybe Yusaku had been the one to forget. Everything is so fuzzy right now. 

For a moment it was like the whole world had stilled. All the growls in the forest, all the breathing of the trees, all the beasts in the wilds. They all hushed as the very air around him saturated and stilled. It was like time itself had even stopped in the wake of Spectre’s spell. Maybe it really did, who can say inside the forest?

Then all at once it was alive again when the forest itself _pulsed_.

Time turned again, and everything sprang to life. The wind whipped his hair, filling his ears with a deafening roar. He could hear trees snap and crack, like something simply decided knocking them out of the way was the most effective way to navigate the forest. He could feel light burned against his skin, and heat flared in the very air around him, but through it all he couldn’t possibly open his eyes to see.

His breath shutters painfully again as he _feels_ whatever is coming arrives. The air is thick with panic and barely contained fury. All at once the roaring wind and cracking trees stop, and for a moment a thick silence is all that’s left.

“ ** _Yusaku!_ ** ” The silence was broken by a thick and terrible cry, a voice both familiar and unfamiliar all at once twisted with such horror it could be felt. He struggled to blink his eyes open, but his vision was overtaken by dark purples and gold as _something_ or _someone_ grabbed him. Their hands pat frantically up his arms, bumping into the branding roughly and sending yet another shock of pain through him. The frantic patting stopped when a sharp cry sounded from him, fingers squeezing his upper arms.

“He’s not doing so well.” Another, more unfamiliar, voice sounded. “I think he’s going to die.”

“Don’t _say_ that Windy.” Yet another voice scolded, “Have empathy, that easily could have been your boy.”

“If it were mine, there would be no city right now.” Windy responded, voice suddenly laced with white hot fury. “I don’t know how they’re still alive.”

The arms holding his upper arms have circled him now, pulling him into a cradle, rocking him back and forth like he’s some sort of child in need of comfort. It would almost be insulting if it wasn’t so...nice. He can’t remember the last time someone just held him, the last time he’d _let_ himself be held. But he didn’t want to fight this, not at all. After all the pain and fear something so comforting and warm felt nice.

“Yusaku, Yusaku, _Yusaku_.” The one holding him rocked back and forth, chanting his name like a prayer, face digging into his hair as he was squeezed too tightly. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Beloved.”

He couldn’t hold back another hiss as the motion disturbed the tender would, pained tears escaping from beneath his tightly screwed eyelids. A thumb swiped away the salty tears, still rocking him as the man whispered, “Shh Shh I'm here, I'm here.”

Yusaku tried to pry open his lips to say...something, maybe try to ask who the man holding him was, because somewhere in his delirium he was failing to recognize anyone anymore. But all that happened was another coughing fit as his head buzzed and he fought to stay awake.

“They’ll _pay_ for this.” The man promised him with hissing anger, a hand coming to pet his hair. “I promise you love, they will **_pay_ ** for this.”

The one holding him sniffed, face burying in his neck now as he carded his fingers through Yusaku’s hair. The other’s man’s whole face was wet with his own tears, and Yusaku could do nothing but hazily let this happen as he tried to understand the words leaving his lips, “My poor love, My poor Darling, My Poor Yusaku, I can feel your pain but I couldn't find you and I thought the worst and-”

“Ai, I need you to let go of him.” Another, kinder, sweeter, voice told him. The man’s shoulder was tugged a bit, but the man hissed in response. The other didn’t stop however, simply trying to reason with his captor, “He needs treatment.”

“Brother, please, move aside. I know you're acting on your protective instincts right now, but allow Aqua passage to heal him.” Yet another voice intervenes, one he also doesn’t recognize. But he sounds very reasonable, so Yusaku couldn’t help but approve as he spoke. “She can help him, you know this.”

Yes, let the healer see him. That’s what he needs right now, a doctor, someone that can help him with a fever and an infected wound. He tries to ask exactly for this, but only wheezing coughs come out, which is more than frustrating. It was also frustrating because the man holding him only squeezed him tighter, which wasn’t what he needed at all right now.

“Ai, please.” The reasonable one tried again, “I understand you’re upset right now, we all are, but you _need_ to get him help first, otherwise you’ll lose him for good.”

The blue haired boy had just enough awareness to let out another coughing fit just to drive home the point. 

This time yet another voice spoke, “Don't worry, brother. I swear to you, you will have your vengeance for what was done to your Beloved One. I swear on my magic you will.”

Finally, with a few more silent sniffles, the hold loosened just a bit, just enough that someone else grabbed his elbows and shifted him onto the ground, laying him mostly flat, his head resting on someone’s lap. A hand carded through his hair, the other catching one of his hands and squeezing it lightly as someone else set about actually healing him. Cool fingertips settled on his forehead, trailing downward as icy cold magic began to chill his fever. Yusaku let out a relieved breath as the heat beneath his skin was combated, leaving him better off.

The fingertips trailed downward, examining his body. Finally, the ice cold reached his belly where the pulsing wound rested, but it only stung more when she tried to bleed magic into it, causing him to groan and try to squirm away from her. Finally, she spoke again, voice painfully gentle, “Ai...there’s nothing more I can do here."

“What do you _mean_ there’s nothing more you can do?” The man holding his head, Ai, demanded, “You’re a healer, heal him!”

“Look.” Those ice fingers tapped against his abdomen gently, “See this?”

There was a scream of sheer rage, the air growing heavy and loud as several exclamations he couldn’t focus on broke out, too loud, too much yelling, too much arguing. He tried to drown it out, focusing on the ice touch, but he couldn’t. Something snapped in the air, and something dark settled over them. Low growling emitted from around them, and he could _feel_ the forest twist growing and expanding as eyes opened within it for the first time. More beasts, he realized, twisting and stitching to life. Too loud, too much. And yet he could say nothing. So he suffered through a dizzying headache until the healer was able to break through the other’s exclaims.

“It’s a protection rune.” The healer explained gently, circling the fresh wound with a single finger, “Meant to protect from outside magics. It’s rejecting my attempts to heal it. There is nothing I can do here, it will need to heal naturally, with antibiotics and salves.”

“Why?” Ai sobbed over him, “Why would they do such a thing?”

“I do not know what their intentions were doing such a thing, perhaps they thought it would protect him whilst he was lost here.” The healer spoke, and it was only then, Yusaku vaguely realized, that these people didn’t know what happened before he was thrown into the woods. “Regardless, it is rejecting foreign magic. The scarring itself can never be healed.”

  
But it was hard to focus on the ice cold touches when there were still deep sobs playing next to his ear, “What have they done? What have they done?!?! They were going to kill him...they were going to kill my sweet Yusaku and _take him away from me_!”

“They’ve gone too far this time!” Yet another voice snapped venomously, “They still have three of them! I say we kill them all! Flush them out and purge them from our lands like we should have done years ago!”

“We can’t just go around wildly slaughtering people!” The reasonable one snapped at the other, “Our Beloved Ones should take priority!”

“They are taking priority!” The angry one snapped, “I’m prioritizing getting them out of there before they end up like him!”

Yusaku, in a sudden bout of unexpected clarity, realized that the others meant _the others_ , as in Jin, and Takeru, and Suzukage. He isn’t sure how he came to this conclusion, maybe it was simply his delirium making him hear what he wanted to hear, but he believed so strongly in this observation that it filled him with renewed strength. He gasped, trying to summon even an ounce of strength, because if these people were going to help him say the other’s then he was going to do what he could to get them out as quickly as possible.

“J…J-J….Ji...n.” He manages to gasp out. The singular name able to leave his lips as the memory of Kusanagi’s trust in him played over and over again in his head.

_“Stay with Yusaku.”_

“Jin?!” One of the voices demanded, sounding very serious and authoritative now, barely contained rage lacing his words like poison. “What about Jin? Where is he?”

He tried to clarify, but words failed him now, leaving him mumbling incoherently. He wants to explain everything, being arrested, his near execution, the others still being trapped there, but all words fail him. “Mma.”

“Shh, love, save your strength.” Ai pet his hair, shushing him gently.

“No! Talk!” The venomous voice from earlier keeled next to him, rough hands seizing his shoulders and shaking him lightly, causing him to hiss in pain again as the other made his demands, “Tell me where Suzukage is!”

“ ** _Don’t touch him!_ **” Ai snarled, and those hands were knocked away from him as a loud smack sounded through the air. There was more loud arguing then. Too much, too loud, roaring winds and howling beasts leaving him shaking and sweating.

“Now, there’s no need for all of these dramatics.” Spectre’s always amused voice, “Simple observation will work just as well here. You forget, I lived with Fujiki and the others in the city for years. I can recognize where he’s been.”

“I caution you not to fan the flames, dear one.” A voice that hadn’t spoken yet warned warily.

“He’s wearing prison garb.” Spectre ignored the warning, and Yusaku could hear him stepping forwards, standing over him. He could easily imagine the knowing smile on the other’s face. “There is only one prison in the city, if you don’t include the asylum, which I doubt he was inside. That means they were locked underneath the Court House, the single most heavily rune protected city in the building.”

“They’re in _prison_?” The reasonable one demanded, sounding half disbelieving , “It took us years to build up the strength to break through that cafe’s wards, how are we supposed to break through the most heavily guarded building there and rescue them?”

“We only had one origin before.” The authoritarian one spoke, cold and calculated. “Now we have three. We’re stronger than we’ve ever been now that they’re home.”

“Yusaku is too weak for such an attempt.” The healer stated with a hint of disapproval. “Such a thing will drain him too much in this state.”

“It’s a week unconscious versus the possibility of three deaths.” The authoritarian declared coldly, “What else would you have us do?”

“Yeah! I’m with Lightning.” The venomous one spoke, “Look what they did to Ai’s boy, he’s dead! I’m not letting Suzukage end up like that!”

“He’s not _dead_ .” The reasonable one snapped sharply as Ai _hissed_ like an angered cat, hands tightening as he reached to pull Yusaku’s limp body closer. For the first time, Yusaku risked peering open his eyes, his vision blurry as he tried to figure out who these newfound allies were, blinking away the tears and trying to take in anything.

Ai was a horrifying sight to behold. His entire face was twisted into an angered snarl, eyes gone pure white with rage, teeth gone sharp and inhuman. It’s hard to make out the fine features of his face, but it was far easier to make out the whirling tentacles sprouted from his back, swinging wildly as his bodily form twisted. His stomach dropped, twisting with discomfort as he decided he no longer wanted to see this, letting his eyes slip closed and struggling to pull away the best that he could. But Ai’s grip on him was too strong, and his voice was wrecked with grief as he spoke, “We’re not using Yusaku!”

“Ai’s right.” The reasonable one added, “We need to think of their health and happiness first and foremost. Jumping at opportunities and using force has only led to this situation. We need to be smarter about this situation.”

“Idea.” The one that spoke to Spectre spoke up, “We cannot risk doing this ourselves again without further harm. Observation, there are new beasts being born within the forest even now. Solution, we may be able to take advantage of the new beasts born of The Dark Spirit and his Beloved's Magic. They are in the deeper parts of the forest now, but more are being born all throughout. All of them are acting out from the pain they are sensing from their creators.”

“You’re suggesting we send the beasts to attack the city?” The authoritarian one mused, sounding pleased with the idea. “I must say, Earth, I approve.”

“I don’t!” The reasonable one spoke, “Did I not just say slaughter was a terrible idea? Those beasts are acting out of rage, pain, and fear right now. They’ll attack _everyone_ blindly!”

“Everyone who hurt Yusaku,.” Someone else hissed. 

“They’re more beast than man, they can’t reason, they just hunt.” The reasonable one pointed out, “If they run wild in the city who knows who will be caught up in it. I know you’re all angry, I am too, but we can’t end this as the villains.” 

“Who cares about the city?” The venomous one demanded, “I only care about Suzukage.”

“Suzukage, who has a _family_.” The reasonable one pointed out sharply, “One that could get caught up in the raid. No one has ever seen beasts like these before, and we can’t be sure how to even stop them beyond Ai and his origin’s control.”

“Speaking as someone who knows the others very well from years living with them.” Spectre spoke up, “I doubt they’ll find you all very attractive with the blood of their families on their hands. In fact, such a thing will assure a very harsh rejection of affections.”

There was a collective hiss.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ai spoke softly, voice taking on a hard edge as he stood up, taking Yusaku with him as his body lay limply in the other’s arms, “I don’t care if they _all_ die. Look at what they’ve done to him.”

“Ai, I know you’re angry, but think about what’s best for Yusaku.” The healer pointed out, “I very much doubt he wants to waken to find you’ve killed everything he knows. Wait for him to awaken, he needs you.”

Yusaku isn’t very sure he needs Ai at all, actually. Actually, he’d like Ai to put him down and leave. The sight of the other was still burned into his memory, horrifying and incomprehensible to his feverish mind. But at the same time, the thought of leaving makes something within him curb sickly.

He’s done thinking now, he decides, he’s too tired to fight anymore. 

So he sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rolls in with a smoothie] So, yeah, this was an Ignis/Origin shipping fic the whole time. Surprise!
> 
> Yeah, I am putting off writing the newest chapter of Ghost of Pandora. Don't @ me fam, I lost interest and there's, like, only four more chapters I plan to write for it anyway. XD
> 
> Anyway, thanks to Katias for helping me bounce ideas off the chapter. I swear writers block is the reasons for all the delays lately. That and job hunting. 
> 
> Ai and the other Ignis are ready to burn the world and, honestly, mood. Also, I wrote a Celtic Fae story and somehow turned it into a Castlevania style Gothic Horror and I have zero regrets. XD


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up comes suddenly, with a cold gasp and sweat drenching his skin. Fabric clung to his overheated body, and it was the first thing Yusaku became aware of as his consciousness returned to him. 

At first he couldn’t open his eyes, too exhausted. His whole body trembled with too much energy, and yet he couldn’t move his limbs at all. For a moment, he panicked, realizing that this couldn’t be his bed, because even in this hypersensitive state he could tell the bedding was too soft, the sheets too cool and silky smooth. No, this wasn’t his room, and he doesn’t know how he got here.

Breath, calm down. 

He couldn’t allow himself to panic, not now, not when he didn’t even know where he was. He needed to figure this out, then he could get out of here and back to his room in Cafe Nagi. There was no need to panic.

One, open your eyes. Two, figure out where you are before you start assuming the worst. Three, plan from there based on the situation.

It took time and a lot of effort just to gather his thoughts, and then more effort still just to focus on peeling open his eyes and taking in his surroundings. But he managed it, eventually, only to find himself blinking as he tried to process what, exactly, he was seeing just above his head.

A canopy of wisteria fell from the roof, surrounding his bed like a veil. Pinks and blues and purples taking over his vision as the petals hung loosely on their vines, parted only by thick, silky, ribbons and small crystalline lights.

Yusaku blinked, wondering how he ended up under the canopy. He turned his head with some effort, trying to gauge anything else, but the wisteria fell all the pay past the edge of the apparently very spacious bed. He spotted his own, pale, hand. Laying uselessly by his side on top deep purple and silky smooth blankets. 

Were these blankets _embroidered?_ Yusaku squinted, seeing that, yes, they were. Black designs woven into the silk. What kind of rich nonsense was this? Was he in some sort of noble’s home? But whose? And what was he doing here?

Suddenly feeling ill at ease, Yusaku focused on getting up, testing his fingers. One twitch, two. Now he could clench his hand open and shut. Good, good, this was progress. Now get up. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, the blue haired boy summoned all the strength within his overheated body, heaving himself upwards. His arms shook from the effort, his torso trembling as everything ached and burned for a moment. He hissed, finally sitting up, but couldn’t pull himself up any further. So he collapsed against the many pillows and headboard, gasping for breath as he was finally in a position to observe his surroundings.

He was definitely in a noble’s room. There was more space here than in Cafe Nagi’s downstairs eating area, and more elegant than they could ever manage. The walls were carved from some sort of dark stone, the columns carved with roses and vines and many other too detailed designs. There were intricate mahogany armoires and vanities, expensive looking crystals and jewelry boxes littering the surfaces of tables and desks, jewels and ribbons peeking out of some of them. There were vases, too, painted with painstaking detail and filled to the brim with roses.

“What…?” Yusaku’s throat burned as he spoke, rubbed raw and dray. His tongue felt like sandpaper, and now that he took the time to look down and observe himself, he didn’t seem to be in a good state. Someone had redressed him in a loose-fitted silk sleeping gown with a plunging neckline that fell far down his chest, letting him catch a glimpse of the tightly bound bandages beneath.

The boy frowned down at himself, eyeing those bandages critically. Had he been in some sort of accident? It wasn’t unheard of. Those self driving carriages were only invented a decade or so ago, so the technology wasn’t perfect. Sometimes someone got mowed down by those things. It would be easy to imagine that some noble had hit him with one and then decided to take responsibility and heal him to avoid a murder by inaction charge. 

Except…

Yusaku glared down at his forearms, his mostly pale forearms. There were bruises here and there, mostly around his wrists, but for the most part they weren’t any more marked than they ever were. Only his decade old scars marring otherwise perfect skin.

If he’d been hit by a carriage then there’d be more bruising there, he imagines.

So then what happened? And, more importantly, how does he get out of here?

Yusaku tsked, sucking in a deep breath and then breathing out slowly. With little hesitation, he heaves himself forward, forcing himself to fall onto his hands and into a crawl, limbs shaking from the weight, pain shooting from his abdomen and making him hiss. But he ignored it, or he tried to, forcing himself to focus on crawling away.

One, two, three. 

One, two, three.

He reached the edge of the bed, eventually, because this was just extravagantly too large. How many people could he fit on this thing? Ten easily. More if they squeezed. But it didn’t matter, because soon he would be gone, he just needed to stand up and go. 

His bare feet touch a dark, just as extravagantly designed, rug thrown over a dark marble floor. It’s soft beneath his soles, and he’s able to make it all of two steps before it is ten soft against his cheek, because he fell over and hit it with a pained groan.

Great, just great. He couldn’t even make it three steps away from the bed.

Yusaku allowed himself just a moment to lay there, pain throbbing through his stomach, arms heavy as shackles under him, and legs as weak as jelly. He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath and trying to summon his strength again, but it seemed his arms legs simply wouldn’t move again. So he was trapped by his own powerless body, left frail and vulnerable on a stranger’s carpet floor.

But he wasn’t there for long before he heard a door opening from somewhere, which was strange, because he hadn’t _seen_ a door. But the question of where this door could vanish from his mind as he heard a startled cry, “ _Yusaku_!”

Rapid footfalls sounded towards him, a figure falling to their knees and reaching out for him, “Are you okay? You shouldn’t be moving yet!”

Yusaku vaguely recognized that voice, but couldn’t identify it. Confused, pained, and not knowing where he was, he reacted instinctively, flinching away from those reaching hands, “ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

The figure paused, hands freezing just over the back of his shoulders. Those hands trembled above him, the voice, a man’s voice, trembled a bit as he spoke, “But-but...how will you get back on the bed if I don't help you?!”

He had no intentions of getting back into that bed, especially not with what he assumes is the room’s owner has returned. And _especially_ not when the other man seemed to know his name. The blue haired boy tried to recall why, tried to piece together what happened that led him here, but his heart was pounding against his chest like the rapid beat of a drum. His skin tingled almost pleasantly, leaving him unexpectedly warm. 

He was so achingly familiar. Yusaku could taste it on his tongue, but he couldn’t place the voice to a clear memory. But he swallowed, deciding to push away the feeling in order to focus on escaping. The fear drives him, giving his arms the strength to push himself up just a bit.

But the man next to him didn’t leave. He only started fretting now, hands still hovering as he became very emotional, “Yusaku…”

“I said stay away from me!” Yusaku snapped, stomach throbbing as he finally was able to push himself all the way up, only for his arms to give out at the last minute. He fell to the floor again, barely pinching back a pained cry. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” The man, fretted again, voice cracking with emotion even as he tried to mask it with a comforting tone, “ I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. _Not like that_ **_wretched_ ** _city did_.”

“Stay away...” Yusaku groaned, blinking his eyes. The pain was holding him back too much, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, let it stop him. But stop him it did, so all he could do was try to pathetically crawl, “Stay away. Don’t touch me.”

“Oh…” The man sounded almost pained, his hands still lingering just above Yusaku’s shoulder blades still, just waiting for permission to touch, “Oh, my dear stubborn one, you really shouldn't be trying to get out of bed.”

The man was being _very_ overly familiar with him, and Yusaku did not appreciate it at _all_. His lips thinned, fingers curling against the carpet. The canopy of wisteria is fresh in his memory. Was this...some sort of sick stalking situation? Well, he wasn’t having it. “If you’ve kidnapped me-”

“No!” The man shouted the denial, distressed again. “Don’t you remember what happened? Where you are?”

No, he didn’t. He tries to think, but all he can remember is fear and panic. Pain and exhaustion. He shakes his head, still somewhat dizzy and confused, “I don’t know where I am.”

“You’re home now.” The man told him gently, voice tilting with an attempt to be gentle and comforting. “You were hurt very, very, badly. I brought you here after we found you.”

Home. This wasn’t home. Home was Cafe Nagi, and this place was nothing like it. It was too big, too extravagant. No, this was the man’s hoe, but that didn’t answer his question at all. “Where?”

“My castle.” The man answered gently, “Oh Yusaku, you were hurt so badly, you've been delirious with pain and fever for days.”

That made sense, he thinks. Given the pain in his body and the sheer exhaustion he feels. Also the bandages and the sweat. He tries to recall what happened, but he can only summon a blurry memory of shouting crows, burning, sheering, pain. “Oh.”

“Let me at least help you to a chair or something and I'll get you something to eat! We also need to change your bandages!” The man practically begged, hands inching ever closer, “Please, let me at least do that much.”

Yusaku wanted to say no. He would normally say no. If he could even push himself up even a little bit then he _would_ say no. But he couldn’t summon any more strength, unless he wanted to pitifully try to crawl across the floor so he wouldn’t be able to open the door _if_ he could find it. He didn’t really have a choice but to accept help if he wanted to get off the floor, bitter as the fact was. 

So he means to nod his head and agree, but cool fingertips brush against him with feather light touches, and he’s suddenly seized by such terrible fear he can’t help but jerk away, “I don’t know you, I don’t know you.”

“Yes you do.” The man’s voice took on an edge of hysteria, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that I'm not, at least, familiar to you. I _dare_ you.”

Yusaku’s chest _ached_ at the words, that same strange familiarity burning in his heart like magma. Stubbornly, he lifted his face towards the man, determined to reiterate his point and prove that he _didn’t_ know him, even if it was a lie. But the words died on his lips when green eyes met gold, his breath leaving his lips as he became unwillingly enraptured by the glow of his irises. His face was sharp, beautiful in a way, dark hair falling just past his shoulders, earrings dangling decoratively next to his slender neck. He was as extravagant as the room itself, and he looked different from anyone else Yusaku had ever met. He’s sure he would remember meeting someone like this.

And yet he couldn’t recall, no matter how much he tried. Which was strange, because the man _is_ familiar. So familiar that it burns him, but he couldn’t place a memory to how they met. 

“That’s what I thought.” The man muttered after a few passing moments of silence. His hands descend at last, touching Yusaku’s shoulders, and the boy _hates_ how it feels so right. The man turns him over, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s limp form and practically cradling him in his arms, “I'm not some scary stranger. I'm someone who _cares_ about you. Someone who has _always_ cared about you. You may not fully remember me, but that has _always_ been true.”

It feels right to hear those words from those lips.

But Yusaku is a skeptic first and foremost. Life has been too unkind to him for anything else, leaving him too withered and tired to honestly believe that good things were just handed to him, or that strangers just cared about him altruistically. What’s more, as familiar as the man is, he couldn’t name a single thing _about_ the almost stranger. So he’s honest with the man, because he wants him to know better than to have expectations, “I don’t remember you.” 

The man’s face twisted with regret, then settled into sorrow, then, finally, sad acceptance, “Saddening, but not unexpected, I suppose.”

A moment of silence passed over them, both unsure what to say or do next. The man stared down at him, inhuman golden eyes trained on his face, filled with an intensity that Yusaku had never seen pointed towards himself before. It made him uneasy, or perhaps that was just the pain. Either way, he was left limp in the man’s arms, head cradled in the crook of his elbow, body splayed across his lap. 

After a while the man seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been caught in, hugging Yusaku closer to his chest and letting out a long breath, “Why don’t we just get you back into bed?”

Then the man stood slowly. But it was far too fast for Yusaku though, sending his body lurching against the man’s chest, heaving as the room _spins_ all around him, leaving him sick and dizzy on top of all the pain. He lurches involuntarily, and he barely has time to move his head away from the man’s chest, vomiting all over the nice carpet. 

Or, well, it should have been vomit. Mostly it was water and stomach fluids, a clear indicator that the man hadn’t been lying when he said Yusaku was unconscious for days. The man froze instantly, “Oh no, no. Yusaku, are you okay?”

He could only stare forlornly down at the ruined carpet, regret eating at him. That thing looked more expensive than everything in his bedroom back home, and he absolutely ruined it. “Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” A hand rubbed soothing circles in his back, the man;s voice shushing him quietly, “I’m sorry, I should have been more careful. Your body is so fragile right now, and you’ve been unconscious for a week…”

A week.

That’s not good. He’s spent a whole week here unconscious. Alone and vulnerable. This man could have done anything to him in that time. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about for too long. It was more important to get information right now. Like what, exactly, had happened.

“I don’t…” He coughed a bit, his mouth felt disgusting now, and his lips still tasted like vomit. “I don’t remember how I got here.”

The man’s face twisted in worry, those unearthly golden eyes blinking down at him. He stepped away from the carpet, slowly, agonizingly slowly, shoes clicking on the marble floor as he creeps toward the bed. He shifted Yusaku’s whole body into one arm, using his other to push back the canopy of wisteria. Gently, ever so gently, he placed Yusaku back down, the blue haired boy falling against the pillows as the taller man pulled the blankets back over him. 

“You were barely conscious when you were found.” The taller man’s voice trembled a bit, his hands shaking ever so slightly, “It's not surprising you don't remember.”

“What happened?” Yusaku’s lips are chapped. He realizes this because he tries to lick his lips with his damp tongue. But that only makes them feel disgusting. “Why does everything hurt?”

“I…well..” The man sat on the bed next to him, hand carding through his hair and down his cheek, over the side of his neck before finally pulling away. “I don't have the full details of what happened to you... but when we found you... you were delirious from pain and fever from... from…”

Apparently trying to recall the scene was too much for the man. He let out a cry, burying his face behind his hands, “Oh! It was so awful!”

That much was obvious, if he was still in pain even after a week of unconsciousness. What he wanted to know was the details, which the man seemed too distraught to give him clearly right now, weeping into his hands like even just the memory of it caused him too much distress to handle. Yusaku settled back into the pillows, watching him hazily, patiently waiting for his assumed host to regain his composure. 

It took a few minutes for the man to stop crying, enough for words to stumble from his lips. “They...you…”

“ _Branded_.” The man squeezed his eyes shut again, shaking his head. “We found you delirious from pain and fever because some **_heinous fiend_ ** branded you with a **_protection rune_ **-!!!”

Yusaku blinks.

“Oh.” His fingers twitch a bit, inching towards the scratching pain on his abdomen. That...seemed right. Yes, it made sense. It was all coming back to him now. Screaming...there were screams, so many screams. So many different faces, all twisted in fear, blurring together in a hazy fog as all he remembered next was pain, pain, _pain_ . Too many hands. Too much burning. Those hateful _eyes_ on him. 

When he struggles past those memories, he can vaguely recall what came before. The trap, the humiliation, the prison. 

“The others...” He breaths, finally remembering that they weren’t _safe_. He needed to get to them and make sure they were safe. “Homura Takeru, Kusanagi Jin, Midori Suzukage...are they okay?”

Wet eyes landed on him, the man’s lips thinning for a moment, “Well...seeing as they haven't been thrown into the Forest with _brands_ burned into their skin...I'm assuming they are as okay as they can be right now.”

Then the man paused, tapping his finger to his chin, “Well, if you define 'still being locked in prison' as okay.”

No, he did not. He absolutely did not. 

Yusaku’s brows furrowed, “But they’re alive?”

“I can most certainly assure you they are still alive, at least.” The man clicked his tongue, dropping one hand onto the blanket and letting his fingers curl against the silk as he frowned, “Them being okay is, unfortunately, debatable. It seems the Forest's reaction to what was done to you was enough to spook the ones in power from trying it again with the other three. But...who knows how long that will last.”

The forest...the screaming…

No, it didn’t matter. Wherever he is, whatever happened, he’d clearly managed to survive somehow before being taken is by this noble.

But how? The forest...the forest…

It didn’t _matter_ , he was alive, and this noble...he...he _must_ be a mage of some sort, there’s no other explanation for the glow of his eyes. He was some sort of powerful and wealthy mage, one that must have decided to take him under his protection. Yusaku isn’t sure how or why he found his way here from the execution, or how the man failed to hear of the details, but he wasn’t going to waste this miraculous third lease on life. So he tries to sit up again, straining, “I have to...I have to get back to them.”

“Ah! Yusaku! Please.” The man pushes him back, “Don’t strain yourself! We’re working on getting them out, I promise!” 

He was? 

That was significantly riskier than finding Yusaku and taking him off the abandoned street. Breaking into the prison was a crime, something that could have him stripped of his lands and titles. The whole populous could turn on him if he tried. Yusaku could be kept secret, he’d already been tossed aside and left for dead, the others were still needed for scapegoating. 

“Who are you?” Yusaku asked at last, needing to know what the man’s game was. “Why are you helping us? Don’t you realize that you could be ostracized for this?”

“Oh!” The man jumped a bit, bringing his hand over his mouth for a moment, “I never did introduce myself to you, did I? Oh! And of _course_ I know who you are! What a silly question!”

The man stood up with a flourish, taking his cap in one hand and bowing low and sweeping, “I am the one who rules this section of the forest! The one and only Dark Spirit, Ai-sama!!!!”

“But…” Then the man stood back up, leaning far into Yusaku’s personal space, rubbing a hand along his jaw, “...you can just call me Ai, _Yusaku_ ~”

The blue haired boy was so wide eyed and distracted by the way the man practically _purred_ his name that he _almost_ missed what he actually said.

Almost.

“The forest…” Yusaku’s voice was barely even a whisper.

“That’s right.” The man practically sang. Then his face became very, very, serious, his eyes sharpening as his voice grew low, “And you, Fujiki Yusaku, are a beloved one of the Forest.”

Beloved one, like the forest could think, like it could feel and love and want. The very idea shakes Yusaku, because it _feels_ so right, but it’s so foreign and wrong to him. It goes against everything he knows, everything they’ve ever been taught about the forest and the way it works. All their life they’d been told that the forest, if it truly has a soul all it’s own, wanted nothing more than to devour. That if you step over it’s border it will snatch you up and eat you whole. It pulls you down with it’s twisted roots, far beneath the earth, and lets the trees devour you until not even bones are left behind. 

“No…” He breathed, fear taking his heart as he _remembered_. Trees with faces and maggots in their wooden teeth, eyeless holes with dripping blood red sap, beasts that pulled themselves from the earth and stitched themselves together vein by bloody vein. He knows where he was, where this man claims he is, and he just can’t accept it. “No, no, no.”

The man frowned, golden eyes lighting in concern. Now that Yusaku was paying attention, _really looking_ , he could see they weren’t human. The pupils were shaped wrong, too rectangular and catlike for the roundness of humanity. How had he not noticed before? The glow alone should have shown that he was absurdly magically powerful. Only mages with decades of practice and experience could pull that off, and even then only when they’ve built up enough of their own raw magical energy within their bodies.

Foolish, he’d made a foolish mistake.

Was this room an illusion? Was the man’s beautiful face one as well? Something to lure him into a false sense of security? But why? He’s helpless and alone, has been for days, apparently. So why is this happening? 

Does the creature want to torment him before he dies?

Beloved of the forest, he had said. Something loved, something treasured. But Yusaku can’t accept that as the truth. He knew the forest had wanted him and the others, had wanted them so badly it would stop at nothing to take them, but the fear runs too deeply in him to accept such a benevolent answer.  
  


“...then why…?” His fingers curl against the blanket, heart drumming against his chest. He stares at the man...the spirit. A dark spirit, it had claimed, one that rules the forest. Or, at least, a piece of it. The idea seems so absurd to him, so impossible, but he has nothing else to argue. He knows he was in the forest, and now he is here, with the creature that looks human but isn’t. He has no choice but to believe, at least a little bit, that it must be at least somewhat true. “Why...does it want us? Why has it been _haunting_ us?”

For over a decade he’s stalked by that forest, caught in it’s tempting hold, almost lured into its deadly embrace. He’s lost hundreds of nights of sleep to the nightmares it left in its wake. He’s lost _friends_ to it, his health, his peace of mind. And it supposedly _loves_ him?

“Why...does it want you?” The spirit tilted his head, bangs tilting into his eyes a bit as his earrings dangled from the movement, “I thought that was obvious?”

“The forest and we ruling Spirits want you all to come back to it! You're safest here than you are out there! **_That brand on your belly proves that much_**!” The spirit shook his head, eyes tearing again as he inched closer, which only had Yusaku scolding and sinking into the pillows in a vain attempt to put distance between them. The spirit, for his part, did freeze at that, coming no closer once he noticed the defensive movement. He frowned, brows furrowing together, “You are part of the forest...and the forest is a part of you! The forest loves you six, and it just wants you to come home to it.”

“...part of…?” Yusaku frowns, hissing as his body throbbed again. Nothing made sense anymore. “You mean it considers us it’s property.”

The spirit jerked back at that, honestly started, “What would make you _think_ such a thing? I know it’s methods of trying to bring you home are a bit... _obtuse_...but surely…”

He had no right to look so startled. “They...but those that enter never leave. Everyone knows that.”

“Those who don't belong are not welcome in the Forest.” The spirit wrinkled his nose, as if the very thought of others walking into the forest was distasteful to him. “Those that are foolish enough to enter against warnings are doomed to be lost within it as punishment for daring to to step foot on its hallowed grounds. The Forest is very picky and fickle, you see…”

The man trailed off, eyes rolling upward and finger tapping against his chin. “But not you’re not them.”

“They told us...they told us...it will eat us alive, til we're nothing but bones.” Yusaku hissed, the memories still burning within him, “They told us it wanted to eat us because we _escaped_ , that it wanted to _punish_ us.”

“Punish? Oh, _Spirits_ , No! You six are _special_. The Forest doesn't want to eat you. I told you, The Forest _loves_ you all. Why would the forest harm something precious to it?” The spirit wrung his hands, eyes blown wide. 

“Because...because it’s growing.” Yusaku wished his stomach throbbed less, that he burned less. The heat beneath his skin was painful, leaving his scars tingling with electric pain.

“Growing? The Forest does that regardless.” The spirit hummed, leaning in closer again, eyes trained on Yusaku intently, “It is in its nature to keep spreading and growing. The city just happens to be in the way.”

Then the spirit flicked his hand dismissively, a note of disdain tainting his voice, “It might bear a slight grudge against the city for keeping you six from it. It's mostly respected your wishes not to leave, and has instead been trying to persuade you all to come to it. But now…”

Golden eyes trailed downward, towards Yusaku’s stomach where the branding lay beneath the bandages and silky nightgown. He shuttered openly, his face twisting in pain. “Why...why did they _do_ that to you?”

Wasn’t that obvious? Because the forest’s growth threatened to devour the whole city. “Because they were _scared_.” 

Because, in their eyes, the children were the problem. They’re the ones that escaped the forest once, and it has been trying to devour them ever since. The city tolerated them, until it proved dangerous to do so. It’s logical, really. If the forest was going to grow until it took them all back then the options were to either _give_ them back or get rid of them. And since giving them back proved to be too dangerous, using them to help prevent further harm with a powerful ward. Sacrifice the few to save the many, so to speak. It’s simple, mathematical even. Until it wasn’t.

He doesn’t approve, but he understands.

The spirit, it seemed, was not moved by the revelation. He looked decidedly unimpressed actually, his voice tilting dangerously low, “ ** _Is that so?_ **”

The rage shining within the spirits eye was unequal even as the creature tried to hide it. The being’s jaw clicked, and even as he tried to sound dismissive it was easy to feel the all encompassing rage inside of him. “Well I’m afraid that _doesn’t excuse_ what they’ve done to you.”

Yusaku frowned, fingers curling defensively. It made sense, in a way, that the spirit was so defensive if the forest considered him something precious to it. Or, at least, he thinks it was in the spirit’s best interest to keep him alive and unharmed. But he’s so...emotional. It’s discomforting. It’s almost like…

Something uncomfortable twisted in his stomach. No, no, it couldn’t be. But not that the thought was there it wasn’t so easily dismissed. The spirit _was_ very affectionate with him, even now trying to inch close to touch him.

It was time to test the waters.

“The brand was for my execution” Yusaku tells him, and it’s the calmest he’s been in a while, the delirium almost seeming to alleviate in the wake of the cold hard fact. “They wanted to rid themselves of the treat of the forest taking us and create a ward to protect them from the forest.”

The spirit _froze_ at those words. 

It was odd, actually. The creature didn’t so much as _breath_ for a time. He was still as a statue, more so, even. No part of him moved, not a single hair, not a blink, not even a breath. He was like a painting, so eerily still was he, mouth hanging agape as his face was the very picture of frozen shock. 

“Execution…” He breathed, only the slightest of movements leaving him. Then the rage came, like a terrible storm, his eyes blazing like the sun itself shined, “ ** _Is that what they were trying to do?_ **”

“To stop the forest? Yes.” Yusaku nodded simply.

Before Yusaku could even blink, he was in the spirit's arms again, face pressed in his chest, a hand carding through his hair as the spirit mumbled darkly to himself. He almost hissed, from the sudden pain the brief movement brought him, but he bit his tongue, listening to the dark ramblings as they fell from the creature’s lips, “All they’ve achieved at this point is the forest’s **_wrath_**. If you or the others had died, then it would have devoured them all, and I would have _aided it._ ”

“ _Oh great spirits_...if Spectre hadn't found you first, you would have been dead. That protection rune prevented us from finding you for the longest time.” The spirit’s voice cracked then, the edge of a sob playing at his throat, “I felt you were in pain, and the forest felt you were in pain too and reacted. But we...I...we couldn't find you at first.”

Spectre? Spectre was alive?

Of course he was, he realized slowly. If Yusaku was still alive because of the forest’s will, then the others must be too.

And, what’s more, Yusaku’s suspicions had proven correct then, the spirit wasn’t only motivated by the forest’s will. It felt personally inclined to protect him, though this, too, may be a result of the forest’s magic. Or perhaps the forest’s will was merely an extension of the ruler’s? In either case, Yusaku was considered more precious than not to this spirit.

That...was truly pitiful. 

For a moment the blue haired boy felt a twinge of pity for this poor creature. 

But he doesn’t allow himself to think of that. The creature had given him the answers he needed, so now he needed to go help the others before the city did something drastic. So he turns his face up, beseeching the spirit. He’s not one to beg, but the others are still in that cell, and he’s weak. “That’s why the forest has to stop. Otherwise they’ll kill the others trying to defend themselves.” 

The spirit froze once again, the hand in his hair pausing as all movement ceased. “If that’s true...then I have to warn the others.”

Others. As in the other ruling spirits? Does that mean it can all stop, that they will stop? No, it can’t be that easy. Still, he asks anyway, “So...you’ll stop it.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Yusaku.” He spoke with a tone that was almost too casual. “See... ruling the Forest and controlling the Forest are two separate things!”

“What?” Yusaku frowned, chin digging into the spirit’s shoulder as he was rocked back and forth.

“It’s simple, really.” The spirit promised him, petting his hair again, “The forest has a soul of its own, it does what it wants with little regard to anyone or anything else. I'm a Spirit born of this forest, made by it to rule over one sixth of it. Spirits born of the forest are just as much subject to its whims as anyone, we just know how to navigate it better and take advantage of what it does. Making it stop is not within the realm of possibility for us.”

Yusaku’s stomach dropped. So that was it. The spirit existed only as an extension of the forest’s will. Likely, it was created with the intent of keeping Yusaku himself within it’s realms.

But _why_? What made Yusaku and the other’s so special that it “loved” them so? Why did it want _them_ so badly? Why lure him here and brainwash this poor spirit into wanting to take care of him when so many others were unwelcome? Because they survived? Because they got away? Or was this sick love there from the start? Why them? Why them when so many others had fallen.

The memory of silver hair haunts him, his eyes moistening a bit. It’s been years since he’d cried, but the devastation that came with the truth burned too much, “Why?”

“Why what?” The spirit’s voice was painfully blank.

“Why us?” He asked, fingers twisting in the creature’s arms, “What made it love us? Why did this happen?”

“This... is where things start to get a bit more messy and complicated…” The spirit told him softly, those fingers still carding through his hair. “Yusaku...do you remember where the forest came from?”

Remember where it came from? No, of course not. No one knew where the forest came from. It had just appeared one day, out of the blue, overtaking whole farms and miles of land as it consumed everything that couldn’t flee fast enough. It appeared overnight, and it spread like an infestation over the course of six months until it finally reached the city walls and stopped, for the most part.

Really, it just grew more slowly after that, going from miles to mere inches over the years. But no one could deny it was growing. Where it had come from and why it was growing, no one knew. But everyone knew that it wouldn’t stop.

“No.” He tells the spirit honestly, because there wasn’t a shame in not knowing the answer to an impossible question, “No one does.”

The spirit hummed, long and low, the sound vibrating against Yusaku’s skin and leaving him shivering. Long fingers twisted gently in his hair, cradling the back of his head gently when he finally spoke, “You probably think it grew itself, don’t you? That one day it appeared from it’s own will.”

That’s what most of the city thought, Yusaku mused. But he was never certain about that. Magic like that didn’t just happen. It has to be gathered, grown. Something had to set it off, though he never remembered what, exactly, happened. All he remembered was bright white rooms and pain that lasted for months. Is that why it loves them? Because while it was growing it found these children that were suffering and reacted to their pain? Had their suffering bought them attention for the time being? It was sheer luck they were saved, he knew that. Double luck, even, because the forest’s growth interrupted whatever was happening to them, and he and five others escaped hand in hand without being any the wiser to the destruction reigning around them.

“That’s not surprising.” Ai spoke, brushing a stray lock behind his ear, “It didn’t grow on it’s own, it was _made_.”

Ice formed in Yusaku’s belly.

“The ones behind its creation lived on its outskirts... by that ocean.” Ai paused his musings, hugging Yusaku more tightly to his chest. “I doubt the ones who'd created a magical and sentient forest overnight would be all that willing to brag about it once they realized it didn't do what they wanted it to.”

“That’s…” Yusaku tried to wap his brain around the _idea_ that the forest could be man made. It seemed impossible. It made his head hurt, and his scars throbbed with pain, pain, pain, pain…

“Are you alright?” Ai pulled him away from his chest, leaning Yusaku back against the pillows, fretting over him once again. 

Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain…“I’m fine...I’m fine.”

“...if...you’re certain.” The spirit frowned deeply, finger’s twitching. “Shall I continue?”

“Tell me.” Yusaku demanded through gritted teeth, limbs too heavy to move still, even as he desperately wished to wrap his own arms around himself. The pain had only grown worse now that he was outside the confines of the other’s arms. But he wasn’t about to admit that out loud, he didn’t want the other’s comfort, even if it was numbing. What he wanted were answers, something that would help him stop whatever was going on and save the others. 

“Well…” The spirit wrung his hands, face suddenly twisting, “...you know how, prior to the forest, magical resources were already becoming more scarce and harder to find?”

“Because of the rise of Magitech?” Yusaku frowned, clicking his tongue. The boom of Magictech was the reason Den City was founded in the first place, and had led into an increased demand in gems and crystals to store magic and power their machines on top of that, leading to a lucrative deal between Den City and Neo-Domino City. At least, before the forest. Now trade was a lot more slow going with their trains gone and travel needing to be done by carriage. 

“Exactly!” The dark spirit twirled a finger in the air, smiling brightly for a moment, like he was _proud_ that Yusaku had pieced this together, as if it wasn’t the most easy thing in the world to deduce. “Magitech was the marvel of the world. It made the application of magic so much more versatile, as well as easier and more accessible to the populace. But the downside is that Magitech requires _vast_ amounts of raw, natural magic to power it.”

Ai frown, then, eyes going dark again as his fingers curled. Something hateful flashed in his eyes, bitter and resentful as anything Yusaku had ever known, “Within a few decades, Magitech had all but nearly depleted most natural mana resources, and artificial ones are much harder and more expensive to make and don't last nearly as long.”

“And gems couldn't be mined fast enough from Neo-Domino to store the magic.” Yusaku nodded, well aware of that history. Or...well, more of a current event. There were plenty of gems in Den City, but they were in high demand, and there certainly wasn’t enough for everyone. It was considered something of a crisis. And, what’s more, the mage population had halved because of it. Because less wealthy mages were forced to rely on their own magic without a source to draw from around them or something to store it in, leading to weaker spells and thus unsustainable living. Nowadays, most mages were wealthy, and the lower class mages made their money filling crystals for Magitech with whatever power they built up after eating and sleeping.

“Right!” Ai clapped his hands, brightening once again.

But then his face became darker than ever, a pure, burning, hatred overtaking his features. For a moment, Yusaku thought the disdain was pointed at him. But then he spoke with a deep venom that **burned** , “But then one arrogant alchemist decided he would correct that problem...by creating a _never ending_ source of magical energy.”

The forest, Yusaku realizes. It’s insane, there was no way a single man could _do_ something like that.

“That’s madness.” Yusaku shook his head, sucking in breath between his teeth as he tried to even comprehend how such a thing could be done. “The amount of raw magical power you'd need to even try such a ritual is…”

“ _Astronomical_ ? _Nigh Impossible_ to achieve? He didn't care.” Ai waved his hand, that same hatred burning in his eyes even now. “That alchemist and his followers were so blinded by the grandeur of their desired end result, that they were willing to do anything and everything necessary in order to achieve it. Forsaking their human morality and ethics for the sake of their goal. Pouring over and studying each and every ritual they could find, each more dark and inhumane then the last…”

Golden eyes rolled over him, and it wasn’t unlike looking directly into the sun. Yusaku had to turn away from them.

“Using what they had learned, they created a ritual that would bring about what they desired. But there was a problem.” He could hear that anger still even behind the false calm. “The ritual was a _sacrificial one_ that required human beings with _abnormally high amounts of magic_ to feed into it in order to achieve their never-ending resource…”

It’s a cold realization, understanding what the spirit was hinting at, one that zaps whatever energy remains in Yusaku’s body as his eyes slip closed and his head falls back against the pillows.

It’s not something he wants to believe, not something that logically makes sense to him either. Even if the six of them had abnormally high power then it shouldn’t be able to create something like the forest, surely. 

Except…

There’s a part of it that makes sense to him. The explanation _feels_ right. The aching call of the forest, the longing, the ease to which he could fall under its influence. If what the spirit said was true, then a lot of what was happening to him and the others could be explained easily. After all, if it was _their_ combined magic that created the forest, then it makes sense they would be drawn to it. Technically speaking, the forest was simply _their_ magic growing in mass.

But how would that ritual even _work_? Even if they hide high amounts of magic, the six of them could have never jump started the growth of something like the forest, they would have died from the magical drain long before the ritual could even be completed, much less before the first tree sprout could grow unless…

Oh.

The pain. 

The ritual had, much like his branding, been powered by their pain. That would have at least gotten them to the point where the forest could begin draining them of their actual magic and try growing. But still, they should have died. Something like that should have killed them. Their agony, magic, and young lives paying for a pool that could renew itself and grow. And even then the forest shouldn’t have been _this_ powerful.

Something had clearly gone wrong. Somehow they had lived, and, to the best of Yusaku’s speculation, that had allowed the forest to grow so powerful. Because the conduits that _created_ it were still alive, generating more and more magic to feed it. Or, more horrifyingly and more likely, for it to observe and copy. 

The forest developed a soul, Yusaku realizes. He always knew that objectively, but it’s different now that he realizes _he_ made it. It was something born from the combined forces of his and the other’s pain, that it was a small piece of them, broken off and stitched together until it became something else. 

“We made it.” Yusaku breathed, eyes slipping closed. “It was us. It was our fault.”

So Queen and the council weren’t wrong in blaming them. The whole city was right to blame them. Without them there would be no forest, without them it wouldn’t have grown to be so mindbogglingly powerful.

“ _You_ didn't make it, you were _used_ to make it. The one to blame is the Alchemist, not you six.” The bed shifted, and the spirit’s palm touched his hand, “Yusaku...it's not _your_ fault. Not at _all_.”

He knew that, objectively. But from a theoretical perspective it was. He was a living magical conduit from which the forest could observe, learn, and mimic. For smaller creatures like Roboppy, this wasn’t a danger. But for something as self subsisting and all encompassing as the forest? That was terrifying. And it didn’t have _one_ mage from which it morphed it’s existence. No, it had _six._ Six traumatized children, from whose pain it was born, all of whom had various destructive ways they’ve coped with the aftermath since. No wonder it was malevolent. 

If they had died, it would just be a regenerating source of magic. So, again, from a purely scientific perspective this was his fault. 

Emotionally? Emotionally he was angry, furious, burning with a bitter vengeance as he wished nothing but revenge against the people who had done this, that had _hurt_ him and the others and created this never ending nightmare that threatened to swallow the city whole.

But mostly he was just exhausted.

“Yusaku?” The spirit squeezed his hand, “Please look at me?”

“I don’t feel well.” He tells the spirit, and it’s true, painfully so. The answers have left him exhausted and drained, and his body is too wounded for there to be an outlet for the bitter rage and resentment he feels for the ones that caused this.  
  


“I know...I know you don't...we...need to get you fed...and get your bandages changed…” The other’s voice twisted again, all anger fading away and giving into worry, “I know this is a lot to take in but... _please_.. _.let me help you Yusaku_.”

Yusaku was too tired, too...everything...to do anything but turn his face away and lay there, eyes still closed and body deflating. 

“Yusaku…” That hand squeezed tighter as the voice cracked, “ _Please_. Don’t shut me out.”

He only laid there a moment, letting himself just _rest_ for the first time since he could remember. But that hand burned his, the spirit’s presence unrelenting. So he had to pull back, one last question lingering on his tongue, “Ai?”

“Yes?”

“Theoretically, that ritual should have killed us. Our lives should have paid for that ritual, since the forest was successfully grown.” Yusaku licked his chapped lips, the dampness of his tongue irritating the sensitive skin, vomit still the only taste on them. “So why am I alive?”

The spirit made a pained sound, his hand squeezing almost painfully now. He didn’t speak for a while, but he did answer eventually, voice softer than he’d heard it yet. “...You know how sometimes, things that have magic within them grow their own soul?”

He hummed.

“The forest was made from you six... it knows that, it knew that, upon its creation.” The spirit raised Yusaku’s hands, pressing the younger boy’s knuckles against his forehead. “If anyone were to have any control over the forest...it would be the six of you…”

“The forest is both its own separate entity.... as well as the combined consciousness of the six of you.” The spirit muttered, head still bowed against his hand. “It loves you, and does not wish for you to die. And during that ritual, I'm sure each of you made a wish not to die in some way or another, Ensuring your survivals...was both an act of love... and an act of self-preservation from the forest.”

“I didn’t ask to live.” Yusaku tells him unthinkingly, and it’s true, he hadn’t. “I wanted someone to miss me when I was gone.”

“Oh.” There was a heavy pause, “I suppose that was the wish that created me, then.”

Green eyes peel open with some effort, watching the spirit’s bowed head. 

“Remember how I said that the forest created us to rule it? Well, there's more to it than just that. The first reason we were created is the most obvious. The forest needed six spirits of high power to rule each of it's six territories, each one of an element matching the corresponding territory. Not unlike a cell keeping the body clean.” The spirit’s eyes peeled open as well, head finally lifting. I, as the Dark Elemental Ruling Spirit -Dark Spirit for short-, rule over the Darkest part of the Forest, to manage the ghouls and other shadowy creatures that inhabit such places.”

“The second reason…” He licked his lips, golden eyes shining with unshed tears of unabashed joy. “The second reason we were created is the most important reason.”

“The Second reason we were created...was to be a perfect match to the Forest's Most Beloved Six.” He pressed Yusaku’s hand against his cheek now, the warmth and comfort it brought an unwelcome and unwanted presence breaking through his turmoil. It made the resentment bleed away, and he hated it, because he wasn’t sure this feeling was forced on him, or something natural he’d been missing ever since he escaped the forest’s hold. “To be their sword and shield...to never betray them or make them feel lonely...to love and protect them for all eternity.”

“We six Ruling Spirits... were made for the six of you.” And here something so raw and powerful bled through, that Yusaku couldn’t face it, “ _Ai_ was made for you, Yusaku..”

It was so much worse than he’d imagined.

That poor spirit wasn’t just protective of him. He was in _love_ with him against his will. Ai had been specifically created with a fanatic devotion for him, and Yusaku couldn’t do anything but wish this creature had a choice in the matter, because if he did he’d never choose to love someone as inherently undesirable as Yusaku.

“...Takeru will be next.” He closes his eyes again, not wanting to encourage this. He can’t even begin to imagine the heartbreak, but he won’t string the creature along either. “He’ll fight the police, so whatever they decide to do, he’ll be next.”

“You don’t believe me.” The spirit _sounded_ crushed, but Yusaku refused to face him. “I’m telling the truth. There’s no one in this _world_ I love more than you.” 

“You should focus on saving the others.” Yusaku told him evenly, “I don’t know what they’ll do to them now.”

““I...will contact the others and warn Flame.” The spirit deflated, shoulders visibly shagging, “We’ll save them, Yusaku, I promise.”

“Okay.” Was all he could say, too tired for anything else.

A tense, uncomfortable, silence passed over them. It was tense as pulled spring, a latch waiting to be knocked over so that a catapult could launch. Yusaku was not going to be the one to break the silence. 

Finally, the spirit broke, standing up with a defeated slouch, “I’ll...go get you food, and water, and bandages…is there anything else I could do for you?”

Yusaku didn’t speak.

“...would…” Ai licked his lips, “...would you feel better if I bought Spectre and Miyu to see you?”

Spectre...Miyu…

“Yes.” He breathed, “I want to see them.”

“Then I’ll ask Aqua and Earth to bring them here.” The spirit wringed his hands, “And...for what it’s worth...I’m proud of you, and I’m happy you’re okay.”

He turned on his heel then, cape billowing behind him as he left the room, shoes clicking against the floor as he walked away, leaving Yusaku alone in this room with nothing but his thoughts to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Slides on in and sips tea] Bet you thought I wasn't going to dump all the exposition on you at once, huh?
> 
> Well this ain't a mystery slow burn. This is the ultimate inferno and we're ALL going to die together. Ai doesn't know how to hold back when it comes to Yusaku, and it would have taken something PRETTY dramatic to stop him. 
> 
> That said, you still don't have all the answers.
> 
> Poor Ai, someone pour one out for my boy. Also for Yusaku.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

###  **Anecdoche** : _n_. a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble

* * *

_They came from the mist._

_They came in droves and hoards, long and lanky creatures with twisted limbs and curved talons that chipped the cobblestone streets and they prowled with too many keen eyes and bodies like broken bones. They came with sharp teeth that twisted and bent like daggers. They looked like men, sometimes, if the eerily glowing eyes of red were ignored. They spoke sweetly against the doors, knocking and asking for the residents to let them in. But when the doors open the eerie men will chew on their flesh until pushed out of the home again. If they don't pull you outside with them and let the beast descend upon the helpless victim. They stalk about with their books clutched between their trees, huddling in packs as they ruin the outside. Sometimes, their sharp nails with scratch against the glass of the windows, or the sounds of their footfalls will sound across the rooftops._

_They pulled themselves from the forest with those nobbling limbs and descended upon the city with terrible howls that rung through the ears like the sound of a hammer to the anvil, ripping cobblestone beneath their claws and tearing apart brick and mortar with their jaws. Stalls were destroyed, and citizens were sent fleeing back into their homes, cowering as they nailed shut their doors and blocked their windows, hoping only to survive the night._

_But come morning, the beasts hadn't left. Now they merely stalked the streets under the cover of mist, long limbs twisting down the now empty roads, stalking every bird and shadow that moved. Books and trinkets clutched in their jaws as they build their nests just outside of homes._

_The people can do nothing but stay imprisoned in their homes, trembling with fear and begging for Forgiveness._

_Forgive us, Oh Terrifying Forest! Oh, Please Forgive us, Dear Lost Child!_

_But, no amount of regret or begging would undo what had fallen upon the city._

  
  


* * *

The council room was very seldom fully packed with all the nobles that were supposed to represent it, but in times of strife or tragedy it sometimes came that every single seat and then some would be filled with the stiff backed posture of the masters of great family houses within Den City. But never, Ryouken muses resentfully, had it been more full than now.

From one wall to another, the room was packed with seated nobles and their families, cowering and seeking shelter in the most heavily warded and guarded building in the city, though there was not nearly enough room for them and their families. The Court House is not a home, after all. And though guards lined the first few floors in droves, ensuring some measure of safety from the beasts that now roamed outside, there was little comfort and food to be found here. Already the emergency rations were beginning to dwindle, and it wouldn’t be long before they would force the guards to wander the streets again, either to escort the braver of them to their own estates, or to force them to look for meager scraps of food.

Ryouken wishes that all the nobles would just go back to their damn manors and hold up inside with their own comforts so that those like him, who _cannot_ go home anymore, can remain sheltered here in relative safety. Then again, he thinks bitterly once again, the whole damn city had proven that when it came to times of crisis, it would do it’s best to unify to pursue the worst possible outcome despite all the pleas and warnings in the world.

But no, not even as cowards can the people be practical, so Ryouken is left to resentfully stew in his seat, arms crossed firmly over his chest and face set in a permanent glare as all around him nearly every single noble yelled in protest, trying to make their voices somehow heard over the rest of the crowd. As if they weren’t being drowned out by each other’s desperation.

There were very, very, few that _weren’t_ yelling. Queen, who sat upon her throne and looked down upon them with her usual distaste. Zaizen Aoi, who seemed to have found him the only company she didn’t hold in contempt, choosing to seat herself next to him with a bitter glare to match his own and a deep scold permanently fixated on her lips. A few others who sat with either false calm, fake amusement layered with poison, or quiet stewing much like his own.

The noise was enough to give him a headache all on it’s own, quite honestly, even if he wasn’t already paralyzingly angry with every single person in this room. It couldn’t help that no actual words could be made out over the various cries, the clearest sounds being wailing children and furious but near wordless grumbling. 

Finally, it seemed that Queen had more than enough of the squabbling, pinching her eyes shut and snapping her fingers. Behind her, a giant, robotic, piece of MagiTech let out a howling siren like wail, a noise that sent shivers down the spine and _instantly_ quieted all the shouting, leaving nothing but a few sobs from children behind.

“That’s more than enough.” Queen announced, standing from her throne like a venomous serpent uncoiling itself to stand tall, fangs dripping with venom. From this angle she stood taller than everyone else in the room, a titan among men. “If you’ve nothing useful to say, then you’re better off shutting your mouth so that those of us with half a spell of intellect can figure out what to do.”

Then, just as fluidly as she had stood, she descended back down onto her throne, one leg crossing over the other as she languished back against the velvet cushions. Behind her the MagiTech loomed threateningly, a warning that disobeying her wasn’t advised. Though Ryouken knew that, more dangerous than the giant armored soldier was the hidden assassin in it’s shadow, Blood Shepard hidden from sight but far more deadly for it still.

The silence reigned for a few, strong, moments, no one daring to speak. Finally, Queen once again lost her patience and cleared her throat, “Well? We don’t hold court because it’s _pleasant_. If you have a possible solution then I would like to hear it.”

After a few more tense moments of silence single, brave, fool stood up nervously, his hands twisting around each other nervously as he spoke, “Well, it seems to me that the best solution to start with would be rechecking our food rations and best dividing them among ourselves whilst the mages do what they can to strengthen the wards.”

It would be a sensible solution if the whole of Den City nobility weren’t already a week into the invasion and a few days into retreating into the Court House. Such things should have been done when it became clear everyone was going to take shelter here. 

Not only that, but most of the city’s fully trained mages were sensible enough to take shelter in the academy rather than aiming for the Court House like most of the nobles, likely having predicted that those with limited knowledge of magical theory would go to a place where they already knew protections were in place. As it was, Ryouken could count very few people in the room with true training in warding or magic. Perhaps everyone in the room knew a spell or five, but he could count the number of people that possessed applicable knowledge on how magic actually works on his fingers. The best they could hope to do was drain the nobles of their magical energy and hope for the best.

Queen seemed no more impressed by the suggestion than Ryouken himself had been, tapping her finger impatiently on the arm of her throne, “Yes, I’ve already set my soldiers to do this. Let me make myself more clear. Does anyone have any suggestions as to how to _fix_ our _current situation_?”

The noble flushed, embarrassed as he sank back into his seat. Perhaps if this were any other day, in any other situation, Ryouken would feel the embarrassment was uncalled for. But any pity to be found from within him was long dried up and gone, so instead he felt nothing but cold apathy as he watched the other nobles mummer to themselves as they tried to think of something.

Never mind he, the foremost expert on the forest and it’s happenings, was sitting right here. No, none of them thought to look to him, the person with the most knowledge to spare. Instead they looked to Queen, the woman whose company has built the city and whose technology kept it running long after their isolation.

“Well.” One woman leaned forward in her seat, her loose fitted dress and show of skin matching her purposely smudged make up and equally messy bun. She waved a gold foil splattered silk fan in her face, seemingly out of place among the rest of the nobility. “I have to say, our chances aren’t looking very well, considering how utterly your last suggestion _backfired_ on us. I quite wonder whether or not it’s even possible to stop the madness now.”

Queen’s lips pressed together in a thin line, “Madame Mei, I assure you, Bishop and his mages had assured me the plan to sacrifice the remaining survivors was the most fruitful to our survival.”

A drumming filled his ears, and it took some time for Ryouken to realize it was the roar of his own heartbeat, the blood rushing through his veins as fresh anger surged through him. The bitter taste of disgust lay on his tongue, leaving him with an energy he had no way of spending. He wants to lash out, to reach out his shaking hands and strangle Queen and her incompetent cohorts.

Bishop. She’d listened to _Bishop_ of all people? There’s no possible way that she hadn’t known this would backfire. It’s no secret among the mages that she’d made Bishop the head of the academy because he was the only higher ranking mage at the time that would be her yes man, displacing her late husband’s old Headmaster for the academy. Bishop wasn’t incompetent, but that’s all Ryouken could say about the man. He was a sad scholar and a worse mage.

“ _Well_.” Madame Mei pursed her lips, waving that fan lazily as she adjusted in her seat and let her dress slip a bit, exposing a little too much shoulder, “It’s good to know that Bishop was _so sure_ now that beasts are eating our citizens. I’m sure my girls in the red light district will find great comfort that Lord Bishop had been _so sure_ they won’t mind being eaten when the council went through with the sacrifice.”

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously as Queen stopped tapping her finger against the throne, “Need I remind you, Madame, that the council voted unanimously?” 

“Need _I_ remind the council that not everyone was in attendance?” The man next to Mei stood, his extravagantly tight and decorated outfit low cut and also unfitting of a councilman’s room. He brushed his head, running fingers through imaginary hair he didn’t have on his purposely shaved head, sighing dramatically, “Indeed, I seemed to have missed my invitation to the whole sordid affair!”

“If you missed your invitation in the mail...” Queen clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “Then that is of no consequence to me. We had a meeting to which there was open invitation to nobility, you did not attend for whatever gods given reason, and even if you had you would have been innumerably outvoted regarding the sacrifice, I assure you.”

Ryouken can’t say he agrees, because if _he_ had been made aware of the meeting in time to actually attend then he can assure that he would have _fiercely_ protested, of that he can _promise._

He would have fought everyone in this room and stolen the survivors of the wood away to his home if it meant avoiding all of this. 

Beside him the Zaizen girl scoffs, eyes glaring even more venomously as they landed upon her brother, who stood at the feet of the stairs beneath Queen’s throne, leaning on his cane and looking rather ill. Ryouken doesn’t even wish he had pity for the man, he couldn’t even begin to _try_ and summon any empathy. And going by the looks the younger Zaizen was throwing at him, neither could she. Whatever their relationship had been before, it was well and truly fractured now.

“I’m jus gonna go on ahead an’ protest.” A bearded man on Madame Mei’s other side. He flipped a coin in the air over and over, visibly agitated, “Ah lost mah cattle because of this. Them beasts ate the cows, hogs, and all. Ah was the last farm in the city, an’ even mah transportation business ain’t gonna save me.”

Queen gave an irritable sigh, rubbing her forehead, “In case you haven’t noticed, _none_ of our business ventures will be profitable again. Right now we aren’t even aware as to whether or not we will _survive_ the beasts at our door, much less save the city.”

“Then the only thing to do is flee!” Someone called from the sea of nobles, though Ryouken couldn’t catch a glimpse of them. “Grab as much as we can and have the soldiers escort us out of the city! We can flee to Heartland! Or Neo-Domino!”

“But what about my girls!” The bald lord beside Madame Mei gasped in horror, cupping his own cheeks, “There aren’t near enough guards to escort us all past the beasts!”

“And my girls!” Madame Mei stood, snapping her fan shut and pointing it towards the direction of the speaking noble, “I cannot and will not be expected to leave my women behind!”

“They’re whores!” Another lord protested, “Their lives are not near the importance of we in high society! Leave them to fend for themselves while we who actually contribute make way for safer lands!”

“How _dare_ you!” The woman, who Ryouken is rapidly beginning to realize is the local brothel mother, spits, “This wouldn’t even _be_ an issue if you hadn’t wildly decided to execute your citizens! Now _we common folk_ have to pay the price while those responsible flee?!”

“Lord Bishop claimed it was the only way!” Another argued loudly, waving his cane wildly, “He is the utmost expert on magic within this court!”

“Then he’s needs ta do more schoolin.” The rancher next to Mei came to her defense, crossing his hair arms over his chest, “Ya’ll only made shit worse! Ah went an told ya’ll we shouldn’t be botherin them kids til we know what they done did! Now ya gone an damn dumb pissed on us all!”

“That’s enough!” Queen’s voice snapped again, echoing through the hall as she commanded their attention fall onto her. “Regardless of whose fault this is, it happened! Now we need solutions! Not squabbling like toddlers!”

“Says the woman that allowed this!” Madame Mei turned on Queen, inciting a gasp from the court as one lone woman stood and faced who many thought of as the most dangerous person in the room. “You’ve been dragging this city down since King died!”

An tense silence descends over the room with a final inhale of breath, all that can be heard for a moment is the tell tale creaking of wooden banners and Madame Mei’s ragged breaths as he inhales and exhales angrily, the stress twisting her features. Only then does she realize what she said, her eyes widening minutely. But she steeled herself, refusing to back down from the challenge she’d made during her loss of control. 

For her part, Queen also had a loss of control for a moment, only a moment. But in that moment her face contorted with rage, a twist, ugly, _hateful_ thing that could send shivers down the spine. Her eyes burned like blue fire, red painted lips pulling back to show her teeth. She looked like a beast herself in those few seconds, with blood around her mouth and a wild spark in her eye. A prey ready to pounce. 

But then it was gone in less than a blink, and Ryouken isn’t even sure anyone but he even saw it to begin with. She settled back into her cool demeanor, as calm and collected as if she were an actual monarch. She leans back into her throne, letting her head lull back. Queen clicks her tongue, red painted fingertips tapping against the arm of the throne. “How terribly low of you, Madame, to use the death of my husband against me like this.” 

There was a sharp intake somewhere, but all Ryouken could do was roll his eyes. Court drama and politics didn’t interest him in the slightest, and now he sees this is nothing but a supreme waste of time.

“You've been running the city on your own since the day after his funeral.” The brothel mother spits bitterly, “Stubbornly accepting no help despite it being offered time and again! By everyone here! How can I not bring it up? For all we know, you made decisions in your grief that contributed to this!”

“One wonders how bitter and spiteful a woman must be to rub a widow's grief in her face.” Queen replies with a coolness that is sharp even for her. Those fingers are still tapping on her throne even now, almost punctuating her words. “My husband built this city from nothing, and he's the reason we thrive at all, and then he died and I was surrounded by vipers that wanted to steal away fortunes and false friends that got my daughter's gender wrong at her funeral. And it was I and I alone who King left his legacy, no instructions at all! No will! And you blame me for the forest's greed?”

“Well who else is there to blame?!?! You're the head of the council, the one with the final say on all decisions!” The woman fought back, lips pulled into a sneer, an accusing finger firmly pointed toward Queen. “Your job is to protect every single person in this room, and all over the city! You forced through a decision, one not everyone was even here to help make, and look where it got us! You didn't even have a back-up plan were it to fail! So pardon me, dear Queen, if the situation calls your leadership skills into questions when you have so thoroughly _failed us_.”

“What else could I have done?! If you hadn't noticed, Madame, no one has come up with other viable solutions to save this city.” Queen spoke harshly toward the woman, snapping through the careful calm just the slightest bit. “Bishop had assured me, as the Supreme Archmage and Headmaster of the Academy, that it would work and save us all! Failure hadn't been an option because there was _nothing_ else!”

The blue haired woman uncrossed her legs then, leaning forward at long last, eyes drilling unblinkingly into Mei’s as she issued yet another challenge, “Or do you have an idea for how to save us?”

But Mei didn’t surrender at all, not intimidated by the seemingly impossible challenge given to her, “ _Maybe I do!_ ”

Another tense silence fell over the room, and Ryouken barely contained a scoff. They may not be aware of it, but he knows the forest and the creatures within it far more than anyone here could ever hope to even dream. He knows very well after the way they _brutalized-_

The tsks, looking away from the arguing pair as anger once again burns in his throat. His mouth won’t open, and worlds won’t form on his lips. It wouldn’t matter even if he _did_ say something, his mind supplies bitterly. They hadn’t listened to him when he tried to stop them from this terrible mistake, and it won’t stop them now. They’ll do whatever they can to save their own skins, it doesn’t matter how many times he warns them, it doesn’t matter how useless it is. After what happened to Yusaku there’s nothing in the world that can spare Den City.

Absentmindedly, he rubs his thumb over the breast pocket inside his coat, rolling the silken bag inside.

“Oh _do you_?” Queen asked almost patronizingly, leaning back against her seat, “Then please enlighten us.”

From beside Mei, the man with the beard touched the woman’s upper back, giving her shoulder a good, firm, pat before letting it fall back to his knee. This only made the woman size up again, seemingly embolden by the simple gesture, “One that can be attempted to at least calm the forest so we can gather our resources and get out safely.”

That caused a bit of murmuring among the nobility. This only emboldens the woman more. She straightens up, snapping open her silken fan, the golden foil shining as she inches towards control of the council. “It was the error of the council to make that sacrifice, so we must make amends for our wrong and the harm done to the late Fujiki Yusaku and set up an altar to him in memorial. If the forest loved him so much, then such a thing should buy us time in order to make preparations and leave.”

The late Fujiki Yusaku.

As if he’s dead.

Ryouken’s whole hand moves to cover his breast pocket, squeezing it harshly. He tsked, lips pressing together firmly. It didn’t matter what they thought, he knew Yusaku was alive, and he was _going_ to find him, no matter what.

It wasn’t too late, not yet.

“Presuming we _have_ the resources to even attempt such a feat.” Queen answered Mei’s challenge, “If you hadn't noticed, Madame, there are beasts clawing at our doors.”

“ _Surely_ we have some. No one is going to be able to take all of their jewels and valuables, so leaving what we can't afford to take and willing to part with as an offering to the poor child is the least we can do after we so brutally and savagely tried to sacrifice him and threw him away.” The brothel mother waves her fan in her face slowly, and it’s clear that the two women have very different ideas of what could be considered a proper tribute. 

“We don’t have the means.” Was Queen’s still cool reply. Likely, Queen was imagining a statue and dozens of candles and sacrifices in a temple built in Yusaku’s name. Honestly, that might be the closest she could come to being forgiven. 

“Does your heart not go out to the poor dear? No one, not even he or the other children, had any idea what the forest wanted with them. I can't imagine having to live such a cruel existence. Surely even you must understand how awful that is.” But the Madame is imagining something more simple, that she hopes would by life if only for a few moments whilst the city flees down the roads. “...Unless you mean to imply you were _happy_ to see him harmed so? We all saw the cold look you gave him before the rune was branded into his skin...one would think you had a personal stake in his death…”

“How _dare_ you.” Queen suddenly stands from her throne, towering even further above them now. Behind her, the Magictech lets out a slight whirring sound, and Blood Shepard is still hidden in the shadows. It’s clear to everyone that the brothel woman had stepped much too far. “I am the head of council. I was faced with an impossible choice! For lives for a million! More than a million!”

“That doesn’t change my words.” Even now, the woman wouldn’t back down.

“The forest draws near, and we have too many to flee! Those who can't afford to flee!” Queen throws out an arm. “I did what I could to save this blasted city! And you dare try to make this personal?”

“My my, if you didn't have a personal stake in the poor child's sacrifice, just say so and move on. That's what you usually do.” Madame Mei smiles something poisonous, slightly hiding behind her fan. “Why are you getting so worked up? You're usually so much calmer than this, even in the face of more severe accusations than what I have proposed? It's not like I said you had a hand in your dear husband's demise, like the late Lord Belmont.”

“I _had_ no personal stake.” Queen admonishes, slicing another hand through the air. “To me it was they or the city. The reason I am "worked up", as you so eloquently put it, is because this city is _dying_ and we are all at risk of a beasts appetite. And yet here you stand, bringing personal matters and old pains to light that are better off _buried_ when we _should_ be planning our escape.”

There was no escaping, not anymore. What’s done is done, and Queen and the rest of this whole damned city are going to have to reap what they sown. All Ryouken could do was try to combat the forest to the best of his ability, and even then he’s not sure he can stop it, not anymore. Not after it finally had half the survivors back. In particular Yusaku, who was as stubborn and relentless as an undying storm.

Madame Mei tsked loudly, snapping her fan shut once again. “Maybe we wouldn't need to run and hide like rats if you knew what you were doing!”

This time it wasn’t Queen who responded. Instead Bishop shot up from his seat at the councilman’s table, his robes pillowing around him as he huffed and puffed with ignition. He wags his finger, ever the school teacher, scolding the brothel woman like she’s one of his unruly students, spectacles gleaming as he goes on to berate her, “I'll have you know, Madame, that I am the foremost expert on magical happenings in the city! Not only that, but I specifically consulted other experts! Our magical history expert, our runic expert, our ritual expert! All of them!”

And that is the extent of what his temper can take. With a sudden spark of fresh rage to fuel his already blazing wrath, his hands are slamming against the table before he can even think to stop himself, roughly shooting out of his seat and knocking his chair back against the floor with a loud snap. He sends a piercing, frigid glare to Bishop, and then Queen. A gaze so frosty and hateful it sends a shiver down the spine, maybe even down Queen’s. He can can't stand the sight of them anymore, and with a sneer, turns and leaves, slamming the doors to the council room behind him as he goes.

Unfortunately, he slams the double doors too hard as he goes, meaning they knock against one another and bounce open again, leaving him to ear a lord’s, “Egad. What was that fine fellow’s temper for?”

Coolly, he can hear the younger Zaizen’s voice echo down the stone hall, “That was Lord Kogami Ryouken, our only Ritual Expert. The Ritual Expert no one could have possibly consulted because he was not present during the last meeting, seeing as he was away from the city at the time. So either we have some other ritual expert, or Lord Bishop has lied to us.”

Whatever else she was going to say, Ryouken doesn’t have the patience to wait and listen. He storms down the hall, the heat of his anger radiating off his skin. The echo of his footfalls against the stone is the only sound he can focus on without irrational anger feeding his already frayed temper. His heart beats in his ears like a distant drum, and he can feel the vibration of every footfall. It takes everything he has not to lash out and slam his fist against one of the walls. He could do it too, let the magic leak from his fingertips while he’s at it, maybe burn out some of the runes.

But no, it wasn’t worth getting blood on his hands. Let the beasts take them all, he doesn’t care anymore. He did his best to save these ungrateful mongrels.

Sucking in a deep breath, he forces himself to calm down, blink away the blinding part of his anger. It would do him no good to go storming into the first few floors where Knight and his men were holding out to try and act as a shield against the beasts. Likely they’d shoot him on sight if he stomped down there acting like this. They’d probably take him for one of the more humanoid shaped beasts and shoot him down.

Which is still kinder than what they did to Yusaku, he reminds himself bitterly.

A series of rapid footfalls sound behind him as someone chases him down. Not Blood Shepard, he wouldn’t have made a sound. Not a guard either, because they’re busy. Not the Magitech either, because the sound of the leather shoes hitting the marble was too light.

“Master Kogami.” The young Zaizen’s voice sounds, her smaller build sliding around him and stopping his progress. She bows her head to him, speaking quietly as she raises again, “I'm sorry you had to bear witness to that incompetence.”

He wants to snap at her, he really does, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not supposed to lose control, and that slip up had been more than enough already. So he keeps his face carefully schooled, an expression that has become default over the years. He has a reputation of being cold and unreadable, unapproachable even, and he likes it that way. Now more than ever even.

Still, the younger Zaizen was the only one that stood beside him trying to stop the madness, desperately clawing at the guards and trying to reach Yusaku, helpless to do anything but watch in horror as he was mutilated by the people who should have protected him. So he’s inclined to spare her his indifference. 

He meets her gaze coolly, “It is of no consequence.”

Mousey brown hair bobs as she raises her eyes to meet him, expression blank, “No consequence except to Miyu and Yusaku.”

She says it so indifferently he almost _wants_ to hate her. If it wasn’t for the clear memory of her screaming despair he might have. Her mask of apathy is so strong he can’t get a good read of her, not even with his years of experience, and that puts him on edge. “Is there a reason you’ve chosen to accost me, Lady Zaizen?”

She tilts her head, face still carefully blank as she studies him closely. He can’t tell if she’s guarded or not. Perhaps this is just her natural expression. Perhaps she’s still in mourning. He can’t tell, and that unnerves him more than he would like. Only Yusaku had the similar effect, because his expression was even more eerily blank. But Ryouken always had the benefit of prior knowledge to Yusaku’s person, and history that made him comfortable, access to past thoughts from when they were children that shared secrets behind the wisteria tree. And then he had the benefit of space between them, watching the survivors from afar and never being in direct line of that apathy’s attention. He doesn’t have that here, with Zaizen, and now he’s finding that she’s a natural challenge he doesn’t wish to face.

Zaizen’s chocolate brown eyes roll over him one more time before she speaks, voice painfully even, “I have determined, Master Kogami, that you are my only ally now.”

If he were a man inclined to laughter he thinks he would let out a bitter bellow now. As it is, all he can do is stare in stony silence. When Zaizen failed to respond, meeting his silence with her own, he was forced to respond flatly, “What?”

“You are my only ally now.” Zaizen responded coolly, tilting up her chin a bit, “You’re the only one I can trust to help me save the ones that were taken.”

For a moment all Ryouken could do was stare down at the madwoman, wondering what in the name of all the gods had convinced her of this, or that it was even possible to save them. Nevermind that he did, in fact, have a plan to try and rescue at least Yusaku. It was still madness to think anyone would have any sort of plan, much less actually help her with her mad crusade. Ryouken wasn’t even sure _his_ plan would work. The only reason he was even _trying_ was because he had nothing left to lose.

“And why would I do that?” Ryouken asks blandly, eyeing the girl.

Here eyes sharpen ever so, rolling over him from head to toe, scrutinizing him. Finally, she speaks, voice tilting just the slightest. “You're not the only one who has lost a loved one to the forest recently, Lord Kogami. You have the look of a man who has lost the one thing he cared about and will stop at nothing to get them back. I've seen the same look everyday in the mirror since I lost Miyu.”

For a moment he freezes, thought grinding to a halt. How had she…?

“I saw how you reacted the day of the execution, you can't lie, not to me.” She licks her lips, fists tightening against her skirts, “You're planning something to get him back, right? In that case, I want in.”

He can feel the weight in his pocket like an anvil now. He clicks his tongue, giving Zaizen an icy glare to rival the one he’d thrown in the council room. “And what, exactly, can you offer in terms of aid? Assuming I do, in fact, have a plan, of course.”

“I'm an Archmage class Enchantress filled with a deep and insatiable rage.” And suddenly there’s a fire in her eyes, a deep, endless, rage to match his own. She steps forward determination shining in her eyes, hands still tight against her skirt as she lets out a long breath. “I don't _care_ about the nobility anymore, or the city, or what my brother will think. All of them lost my trust and respect when Miyu was taken by the forest and scored her name whilst I was left to mourn. They lost the _privilege_ of my compassion and faith when they brought forward those she considered her brothers to be sacrificed to like _lambs_ to the _slaughter_.”

She met him, eye to eye, brown irises shining with sheer determination, “If you have a plan, one that has even the most remote chance of saving Miyu and Fujiki, then I offer you whatever aide you may need to accomplish it. _Please, Lord Kogami.”_

He’s more taken aback than he cares to admit. He’s not pleased by this, always hating to be caught off guard, especially by a Zaizen, the dogs of SOLtech. But she had him more figured out than he was comfortable with, fine details missing or no. He purses his lips, trying to calculate what he should do in the face of this new and unexpected factor. 

There was no reason he should take her on. There was no reason he should even bother to give her any more of his time. He doesn’t trust her, not really, shared grief or not. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore.

But there’s no point really denying her either. The city is doomed no matter what he does, and he is already only half confident his last ditch effort to stop the forest and rescue Yusaku will work. It’s close to a suicide run, and even then it’s a better chance then simply staying here. If Zaizen is to die, then she may as well have the chance to at least try and rescue someone she loves.

“Fine.” He shrugs, throwing a quick look over his shoulder to make sure no one is listening in on them. Seeing no one and suspecting nothing, he turns back to her, moving forward and placing his hand on her upper back, leading her away quickly, “If you insist on this then I won’t stop you.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off of him, but seemed content to let him lead her wherever he will. If she cared about her reputation or starting a rumor about a sordid affair between them she didn’t show it. Likely she didn’t, given her little speech mere moments ago.

They rounded a corner and then she spoke, “What’s your plan?”

“It’s bold of you to assume I had one.” He told her, knowing it was misleading to suggest he didn’t have one. He glances over his shoulder again, just to make extra sure that no one could overhear them. But no one seemed to be following it. “You’re too fast to throw your lot in.”

“I’m a talented gambler.” Zaizen claims, keeping her eyes forward. “And you heard me before, I know the look in your eye. You _do_ have a plan, and I’m willing to place my bets on it.”

What kind of truly desperate fool do you have to be to risk it all on a plan you don’t even know the details of?

Probably the same kind of reckless fool that does what he’s about to.

“We’re going to truly risk it all if we go through with my plan.” He warns her, his free hand once again coming to rest over his pocket, “Are you absolutely _sure_ you’re ready to go through with this? Once we start there’s no going back.”

“I already told you, I have nothing left to lose.” Zaizen shook her head, jaw clenching. “Miyu and my brother were everything to me. But Akira betrayed me, and I failed to protect Miyu or those she considers her brothers. I won’t fail again.”

He could respect that determination, even if he also thought it was rather foolish.

“We can’t just blindly rush in.” He tells her at last, looking forward and watching where they go, turning another corner and cutting his way towards one of the back stairwells that the servants were typically expected to use. “That won't work. The Ruling Spirits are extensions of the forest, and the forest is very attuned to what magic enters its woods. Any foreign magic the forest senses is relayed back to one of the ruling spirits, and they come to investigate.”

“Ruling Spirits…” She breathes, because she couldn’t have known about them before. No one knew about them before. No one but him, anyway. Because he’s the only one that has been able to survive the forest’s never ending pull. 

The only one. 

No one else. Not Taki, not Aso, not Gerome, and most certainly not his father. Whatever their ultimate fates had been he would never know, all he knew for certain was that it had been final. And he’d been left all alone as a boy of only eight years, wandering through the thick trees and back to his seaside mansion, somehow immune to it’s malicious hunger. It’s a secret he’s been keeping for years, day lighting as replacing his father as the court’s ritual expert and pretending he was studying from the outside even as he truly spent days and nights traveling inside and out, trying to learn the ways of the evil that had taken his family.

No use trying to keep it secret now, Zaizen would need to know if they were really going to do this together then she would need to know. “For a reason I can’t begin to explain, I've been able to transverse the forest since I was a child. It’s the reason I know so much regarding it.”

Brown eyes widen as the girl’s head snaps toward him, mouth parting slightly in disbelief, “What?”

“Whether you believe me or not is inconsequential.” Ryouken tells her bluntly, “Either way, we need to get in without noticing. I may be immune to the forest’s hunger, but you’re not, and the rulers _know_ of me. We have to hide our magical imprint, and stay alive long enough to reach our targets. But once they realize we’re there…”

He trails off, letting her draw her own conclusions before he speaks again, “We only have one shot, and with the beasts as an added threat I don’t even know if this will _work_.”

Maybe Spectre would be a friendly ally if he managed to find the boy. He seemed to be privy towards Ryouken, if only because he was the only other human in the forest, and because he liked to play the part of a tricky presence, Ryouken often being his source of amusement. He thinks they _might_ be friends, maybe. But even if Spectre could get Earth to help them, it’s very likely that either of them would be able to convince the dark and water rulers to give up their origins so easily.

No, it was best to assume they were on their own, with just one chance. One foolish, under prepared, outnumbered, chance. 

But what else did he have to lose? Yusaku was all that was left.

“Well, if the forest senses magical presence the moment we step inside, and with Yusaku being too injured to help and Miyu...also not available.” Zaizen hesitates as she stays the words, seemingly contemplating the idea they both may be dead, but refusing to accept that as her reality. “How do we hide ourselves from it? I know of no way to conceal magical presence without casting a rune circle...which would defeat the purpose.”

“I thought of that.” Ryouken tells her evenly, hand tightening on her back just a bit as they reach the stairs and start their descent. “I thought of it for a long time...and concluded if we had something from the forest we could use as a conduit to cast the rune circle and conceal our magic...maybe we could get in and grab Yusaku and Miyu, and then get out.”

“Something from the forest?” Zaizen clearly thinks he’s gone mad, “Would we even survive the attempt to take a stick at this point? Much less something with enough latent magic to do what you plan? That’s madness.” 

“You’re the one that wanted to follow my plan.” Ryouken patted his breast pocket again, finally pulling out the silken bag inside. Held previously in the palm of his hand, he showed it to her, “Besides, I already have something.”

The magic radiated from within, thrumming like a tiny heartbeat in the palm of his hand, not enough to overpower his own magical presence, but still there. And Zaizen could sense it now too, he could tell by the way her brows knit together and her face moved closer to the precious bag. He stomped down the sudden bout of anxiety that her suddenly too close proximity made a protective urge rise within him. He forces himself to sit still, letting her observe the bag instead of snatching it away like his whole body craves.

After a few moments she pulls back, looking up at him, “There’s a lot of magic in that bag for something so small; what’s inside?”

“Seeds.” Ryouken licks his upper lips just the slightest, steadying his heart as it suddenly begins to beat hard against his chest. “From a wisteria tree.”

Zaizen seems genuinely surprised by his answer, looking down towards the seeds with a slight sense of bewilderment. “But surely mere seeds won’t be powerful enough to be a conduit for this. Why didn’t you grab a branch, or a flower? Something with just enough magic to cast the spell. And why not a more powerful tree? Like ash or rowan? I’m no ritual expert, but...”

Because he hadn't originally planned to use the seeds quite like this.

Not that he would tell her the personal and somewhat embarrassing truth for why he’d taken the seeds in the first place. Not even in pain of death would he admit to the true purpose, lest he reveal just how pitiful and alone he truly was. How starved he was for what he couldn’t allow himself to have. 

Even now he can remember when he first found a wisteria tree in the forest, how kind it seemed compared to the rest of the malicious wood around him, how _familiar_ and _warm_ it had been. He remembers how beautiful it had been, how welcoming. And Ryouken, at the young age of only nine years old, curled against the roots and the trunk and hugged it like it was a person. And even with the harsh bite of the bark against his cheek he felt comforted by the magic radiating from it, hugging him back even without arms. And he realized _why_ it felt so familiar then.

Yusaku.

It was him, his magic. Ryouken would recognize it anywhere. Blind, deaf, or mute. He’d recognize it anywhere.

From that day on he’d been on the lookout for wisteria trees wherever he can. And they grew all over the forest, everywhere. They mostly grew in the dark ruler’s forest, but their influence could be found all over. And every single one of them radiated Yusaku’s familiar magic. 

“I...will not be using _the seeds_ for the ritual.” He admitted as they stopped half down the spiraling stairwell. The magic of the seeds throbs in his palm, and he absolutely will not look at Zaizen as she peers at him curiously. Swallowing, he speaks, slow and carefully, “I plan to create a spirit using them.”

Zaizen gasps, her hands flying over her mouth, brown eyes going wider than he even thought she could manage. And she has every right to be shocked. She doesn’t possess nearly his level of knowledge regarding ritual magic, so this must seem downright impossible to her. Add in the fact that spirits needed _incredible_ amounts of magic to form and that it was believed they all died off when magic started to be drained in rapid, and he truly must seem mad.

The mousey brown girl is trembling, her eyes locked on the bag of seeds. Her hands drop from in front of her face, the limbs still shaking. Any other day, he thinks, this would be the part where she dismisses him and walks away. But this isn’t any other day. This is the end of their world, and they’re desperate and worn, and they’re without hope or other allies.

And madness is the only option.

“That…” Her voice is soft even now, but it has the slightest shake to it, “That will take a lot of magical power. That will drain you. Even if you have diamonds. You won’t survive.”

“I’ve been planning this a long time.” He admits that much, but no more, clutching the seeds to his chest. “I’ve been storing magic in gems for _years_ and hiding them in the place I plan to grow them.”

The girl looks at him, uncertain, but also ungrudging. She’s certainly wondering why, but she’s respectful enough not to ask. All she does is nod, swallowing thickly, “You...are you sure this will work?”

“I’ve been planning this for years.” He places the bag back in his breast pocket. And he really has. He has everything planned out, enough magic stored in enough pure gems, he even has a place of great emotional significance to him to perform the ritual, assuring that the spirit born would be powerful. “If it doesn’t work then I’m out of ideas.”

She clicks her tongue, all her thoughts and second guesses running through her mind at once. Finally she accepts this as her current path, nodding silently, “...we have to make it to the place you want to grow them…where is it?”

“Do you remember that park near the outer wall? The one that became abandoned after the forest grew, and had the big Wisteria Tree that was cut down?” Ryouken does, he remembers it oh-so-well. The happiest days of his life had been spent in that park. “It's a bit close to the edge of the forest...but it's a meaningful place to me.”

Zaizen hums again, tilting her head, lips pursed, “That’s a long way off. Do you have a plan to get there?”

“Steal a self driving cart and drive very, very, quickly.” Ryouken told her bluntly.

_Now_ she was judging him, her face going flat as she stared at him dully. He shrugged, unremorseful, “I told you we would probably die.”

“...you are very lucky I decided to make you my ally.” Zaizen sighs, grabbing his arm and tugging him along, down the rest of the stairs, “I can make up for your flaws. I’ll get you to the park.”

He arched a brow, wondering how, exactly, she planned to do that when there were beasts on every side of the street. His idea wasn’t the best, but he honestly didn’t see another way to pass all the beasts and guards.

Turns out that her idea was deceptively simple. Once she was done sneaking them around Knight and his patrolling guards, who were almost ruthlessly impossible to bypass. The two of them had to wait for a hole in the rotations that would allow them both time to slip by. During this time Zaizen took out what looked like a makeup compact, snapping it open and pulling out a stick cover in blue. “Sit still.”

Then she rubbed the brush over his skin, etching with her expensive tools and working down his forearms and over his cheeks. It took him longer than he would like to realize what she was doing.

Drawing runes...in makeup.

On their bare skin.

“There’s no way this is going to work.” Ryouken tells her, staring at the swerved runes on his skin. One smudge and the whole thing would be broken, and he somehow doubted the chalky makeup would be able to hold much. It would be a weak shield at best. “This will never hold. The beasts will break through this easily.”

“Then we better not let them see us.” Zaizen, the madwoman, states coolly before rolling her sleeves up her arm only to then decide this wasn’t satisfying enough and ripping them off before storing them against her belt. Her hands go to mark up her own arms, swirling those loose runes around her forearm. “We’ll have to take the back allies and sneak our way to the park.”

“There’s no way this will work.” He tells her bluntly.

“Better than inviting every beast in the city to attack us by loudly stealing a cart and driving like madmen to the park.” The girl doesn’t even spare him a second glance. 

“Not if the beasts sniff us out.” Ryouken tsked.

“Better to fight them one at a time then all at once.” She pointed out, finishing off her task.

“True.” Ryouken gave her that, “But that’s not going to matter if we smudge these runes even a bit while fighting one that found us. The whole hoard will be on us.”

“Then we best be very, very, careful.” She states with finality. She reaches out, fingers brushing against the unmarked parts of her arm, “I’ll do it. You need to save your strength for the spirit.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but he already feels the misty coolness of her magic role over him. He shivers, not fond of how similar it was to Miyu’s, and by extension the water ruler Aqua. If Zaizen notices she is sensible enough not to mention it, simply focusing on the runes and pouring as much magic into them as they were willing to take.

It wasn’t much, but it would have to do, he supposed. But they better be very, very, careful.

Already he’s filled with cynicism for how this plan would go.

But he’s not in the mood to argue with the younger Zaizen any more than he already has, so he lets her finish this plan. He actually does prefer stealth if given a chance, despite his protests against this plan. He just doesn’t think the odds are in their favor. 

Despite this, he doesn’t say anything as the girl grabs his elbow, seeming to decide she’s going to be the one to lead him to the park. Once there’s a lull in the guards she acts, dragging him out and heading towards the door, pushing their way out is almost too easy. Then again, the guards were probably not expecting anyone _would_ be insane enough to run out like this. But that negligence works in their favor now.

The two of them aren’t even on the cobblestone streets for a minute before there’s already a beast or three in sight. Neither of them open their mouths, and Zaizen immediately pulls him along to the nearest back alleyway. It, too, is empty. Too empty. Before it would probably be filled with servant staff huddling in these parts unseen, trying to keep out of sight of the nobility that would cane them if they were within sight. Now it’s just narrow and empty brickwork, not even rats there to fill the space. 

He’s never been in an alley like this, too wealthy and too focused for such a thing. But Zaizen seems a little too familiar with the twisting caverns for someone of her wealth and power. He wonders, idly, almost self indulgent, if she learned to run down these narrow corridors with Miyu. He wonders if Yusaku had to use them to get to his classes.

Probably.

The alley is too narrow for most of the beasts, it seems. There are very few crawling in the muddy underbelly of the upper city. But even with the few within the prowling narrow alley, the anxiety eats away. They’re too close at times, and while none of them seem to be as effective at sniffing out he and Zaizen as the wolf headed monsters or others that have the noses of prey animals, these are far more disturbing to look at. Most of them look like their skin is made of bark, out of place in the sprawling city. And there’s rot falling from them as they pass, bugs wriggling in and out of cracks in their faces. Their eyes seem to be mushrooms as well, wriggling in their makeshift sockets. They twirled behind their heads at times, peering behind them before turning back to the front, so you would have to wait until they were out of sight before running for an adjacent alley and finding another hidey hole.

Most of the widows were boarded up, a last effort by serving staff to keep their employers safe, perhaps in hopes they would be allowed to hide in the mansions. If they were, Ryouken can’t tell, because they’re not making a sound behind the wood covered windows. All it does is serve to make the narrow space even darker and more empty as he and Zaizen dodge the lumbering monsters. Sometimes, mercifully, a door will be unlocked and they can hide inside a kitchen whilst they wait for the beasts to pass.

What would normally be a half hour trip from the inner city to the outer city for Ryouken via cart turned into a many hours long, draining, escape for he and the girl escorting him because of these terrible factors. By the time they reach the timid servant gate between the inner city and the outer city they’re both starting to sweat badly, and the sun is starting to set.

It was just after noon when they fled the court.

They take a moment to find shelter in one of the unlocked houses, where Zaizen takes the chance to wipe away the perspiration on her skin and make sure their runes are still perfect, touching them up with makeup. Ryouken, for his part, does the same. But he also steals food from the owners of the house without any guilt or remorse. He needs the abandoned food more than them, he justifies to himself quietly, and devours their stock of food and water. His companion is wise enough to follow his lead, not questioning the morality of it as she too downs water. Or perhaps she’s too exhausted to. He doesn’t know or care, so long as she’s well fed and rested then he’s fine.

He steals more of the more travel ready food and packs them away in a sack he steals from a closet. Then while Zaizen is resting he heads for the upper bedrooms and steals whatever gems he can find that are stored with magic. Again, he does this without guilt, knowing he would need them far, far, more.

Overall, they rest for the better part of an hour before they leave again, better supplied and with full bellies and extra insurance.

Neither of them have spoken for hours, but after this little adventure he feels he has gotten a bit of a better read on Zaizen’s silent communication. So the two of them share a long look, a determined one, and he knows she’s as ready as she’ll ever be.

Sharing a last nod, the both of them push through the gate.

The outer city is far more densely packed then the inner city, and there are far more beasts for far more people. The houses are so closely pushed together that there aren’t near as many alleys, and the ones that exist aren’t nearly as narrow. They’re in far more danger here than the inner city. 

He and Zaizen have no choice but to take the main road. 

Zaizen tries, at least, to knock on a door, but all she gets are terrified whimpers from within. Ryouken pulls her away, shaking his head.

Too late.

Not five minutes after she knocks a beast is already coming, Ryouken can see it running along the top of the rooftops, going straight for them. He forces her to run, not stopping as his blue eyes search for one of those allies he could swerve down, but there’s nothing that would make a solid escape. 

He decides right then and there he hates the structure of the outer city.

“New plan.” He finally speaks for the first time in hours. “We’re stealing a cart!”

And he does. He drags Zaizen in the first cart he sees, smashes one of his stolen gems against the start up engine, and drives out of there like a madman as soon as he catches the attention of some of the beasts. The wind whips his face, and he doesn’t have proper eye protection for how fast he’s going, so there are slight tears forming in his eyes from the speed alone. The cart is noisy at this altitude, and every beast in the city must hear them, but he doesn’t dare slow down or look back.

He’s not sure what Zaizen is doing, but she’s doing _something_ while he drives. Beasts are swarming from all over, and he’s forced to weave and swerve around them as they reach out and try to rip him from the cart with their claws. A few pained cries leave them when he runs over a foot or passes them, sending a shiver down his spine, but he doesn’t look back. He can’t.

It makes him uneasy to hurt anything made of Yusaku’s magic, but it’s him or them and he isn’t about to let it be him. 

With the stolen cart it’s much faster to get through the outer city than the inner city, but there’s also a whole swarm of beast right behind them, chasing them down like he and Zaizen are a pair of fat rabbits.

The park is within sight, however, as seemingly abandoned as ever. That’s because he’s set so many protections around it that it rivals the Court House itself, and he’d like to see the beasts _try_ to get through.

He drives right through the arched gate, over where he’d long set a flat stone carved with the runes down. He hits the break, forcing the car into a stop just before hitting the abandoned swing set, snapping his head back to watch as beasts run right into the invisible shield, letting out howls of pain as they partially melt right in front of it.

Gasping, he slumps against the seat of his stolen cart, half in disbelief that this mad plan _worked_. He spares Zaizen a look, she too is in wild eyed disbelief. She looks back at him, long gasping breaths leaving her as she mutters a quiet, “ _Shit_.” 

He nods, running his hands through his hair. The runes she’d drawn on him are well and truly sweat away by now, and he needs to lean his forehead against the wheel and take a long, long, breath before he can feel his legs again and strands.

The beasts are still trying to get in, but he ignores them, confined he’s finally _safe._ Zaizen takes a little longer to regain her bearings, refusing to move from the cart for a while, too shaky to do so even if she wanted to. And that’s fine with him, the whole experience they’d been through was nightmare inducing, and he’s still riding the high of being alive.

Ryouken takes a moment to observe the all too familiar surroundings. This used to be a beautiful park before the forest. But now it’s dilapidated, abandoned and left to fade by time. Swing sets covered in rust and vines, broken chains hanging loosely, slides with giant holes in it, gazebos broken in on themselves, the pond thick with wild algae and overgrown vegetation. 

His blood goes _cold_ when he looks at the wall that had been built through half the park, horror building as he realized that giant roots were now growing through the thick concrete.

The forest was breaking through the walls. 

He hears it the moment Zaizen realizes, her gasp filling the air, sounding even louder than the pained howls of the beasts.

Ryouken swallows the thick lump in his throat, forcing himself to look away, turning back towards his target and forcing the horrible realization to the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, you knew this would happen. You knew. Now you just need to focus on your mission. 

Crystal blue eyes land on the wide stump in what used to be the park’s center, a crumbled stone pathway leading to it’s center, a long abandoned wedding venue surrounding it. 

The wisteria tree.

_"Okay, I'll marry you, and we'll be together forever!"_

He hisses, forcing the memory away. He needs to focus on his mission. For years he’s been waiting for this moment, and now it’s time. Finally, after years of planning and preparation.

It wasn’t quite what he was planning. He wanted a full moon for purer, stronger, magic. And he wanted it to be the early days of spring, preferably Beltane, rather than verging between late summer and early autumn just when the temperature was beginning to drop. But tonight would have to do. 

He looks up at the moon, and is satisfied that a crescent moon is present, with plenty of stars by the look of it. Not a complete waste, then. The spirit would be born under a good moon. Not the best, but good. 

Maybe the pure love and sentiment he felt for the spot he’d chosen would be enough to make up for the other pitfalls. He hopes so. He wants them to be born healthy and strong. Strong enough to go toe to toe with one of the rulers if they had to. He looks down at the large stump, patting the seeds slightly, fighting the building anxiety building inside him. 

He double checks the predone runes, drawn by him, all during full moons and poured with magic. He’d poured so much magic into them over the years...well, nothing looks out of place at least. Most everything is ready for the ritual.

With a calming breath, he goes to his hiding place, a dead tree where he’d buried his jewels beneath the roots and covered them with pine and soil. He digs it out, three sacks of precious gems filled as full as they can be with his own magic inside. A lifetime worth of fortune that would make even Queen jealous with their value and luster. He pulls them away, piling them around the tree in important places, readying for the ritual.

Zaizen comes up to him, looking over his ritual. She clicked her tongue, “Do you ne-”

“No.” He answers, perhaps a little too quickly, heart beating against his chest with wild anticipation. There’s a reason he’d poured so much wealth into this project. He didn’t want _anyone_ else touching it.

After all, he was essentially going to be the father of the spirit born from this ritual. 

As...embarrassing as this is to admit, that was what he had always intended for the seed. It was a bit pathetic, he acknowledges as he kneels before the abandoned stump, digging out the silken bag he’d kept with him everyday for years, feeling the small heartbeat pulse in his palm before letting out a shuddering breath and pouring them from the bag. The pulse is stronger now, and he takes a moment to just...sit and marvel at it, staring with wide eyed wonder as he realized he was really about to do this. He stops, for just a moment, wondering if this was right. The wisteria trees were part of Yusaku as well, after all, and whatever was born would, in a roundabout way, be his as much as Ryouken’s. Of course, Yusaku’s magic had inadvertently given birth to hundreds of creatures that could, technically, be counted as his children. But somehow this felt...different. He was doing this on purpose, combining his and Yusaku’s magic to give life to a new being.

He just...wanted to keep a piece of the one he loved near him...was that so wrong?

He’s come too far to hesitate, he reminds himself, it’s too late to back out now. And besides that, he has no other idea how to rescue Yusaku. So before he can doubt himself again he pricks his finger, rubbing a drop of blood over the seeds, plunging them into the earth and burying them.

Zaizen watches him warily as he stands, backing away, “Blood as a conduit to tie it to you?”

Ryouken doesn’t answer. In his mind, if he’s going to create a creature born of him and Yusaku, they might as well have his blood, they might as well be humanoid shaped. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Zaizen turns towards the trunk, “You wisely choose a wisteria tree, then, as a spirit born of it would be a spirit of love, matrimony and good fortune. That was very clever of you, Master Kogami. You've planned this well.”

He jerks a bit, embarrassed to have been caught. Did she know? She seemed to suspect his feelings at least a little, but did she _know?_ He scrambles for the preplanned excuse, “I just chose it so it would be easier to track down Yusaku, seeing as it’s made of his magic.”

Brown eyes blink, and Zaizen sounds dull as she speaks, “I meant in regards to tying the spirit to you. Those traits are typically benevolent, so the spirit would likely help us without tying it to you.”

Ryouken coughs into his hand, looking away. Of course...of course. He’s overreacting, she couldn’t...never mind, he should start.

Kneeling again, Ryouken places his hands against the long carved runes, feeling the familiar hum of his own magic greet him, with Yusaku’s mixed somewhere within, already mixing as they twist together and try to form. With a last breath, he pours his cold magic into the rune, letting it spill and travel into the sharp and swearing lines alike. He pulls from the well placed gems as it travels towards the center, and he _feels_ it the moment he touches the seeds.

Breath, he reminds himself, breath.

The magic churns, mixes. He whispers to himself, feeling the sweat bead over his back as he pushes the magic along, breathing evenly. It swirls, and twists, and pools in with Yusaku’s magic as they knit together and start to form.

He feels a sudden spark, the magic twisting in a sudden flurry as he feels the moment the spirit is born. It mixes and forms, and he keeps the connection as it pokes and prods, trying to figure out who they are and why they were formed. Ryouken can feel it reaching back for him, curious and questioning. He knows he whispers something under his breath, but he doesn’t know what, too focused on keeping that life alive until it...she...she!...she forms.

He falls back, drained, and breaths.

It’s done.

The tree sprouts, growing around the dead trunk of its predecessor, thin sticks of wood twisting together and forming around one another, forming a thick trunk at it’s base. It grows tall, well over its head, well beyond the size of any average wisteria tree, huge and ancient in body though not in age. 

The wisteria blooms form, pale and beautiful, a few falling away and raining to the ground. A breeze passes over his sweat drenched forehead, and for a breath all is silent. 

Then she’s here.

She pulls herself from within the tree, flesh the same pale tint as Yusaku’s, soft and delicate like him as well. Her dainty feet touch the ground, slight and careful as a ballerina. Pink irises flicker from beneath her long lashes, blinking past a curtain of a pale, aqua, shade of hair. Hugh, clearly inherited from a mix of his white and Yusaku’s blue, but he’s lost as to where the green tint came from. There’s a streak of black and gold on her left bangs, but mostly it’s that aqua color. She stands there, looking down at her slight body, twirling around as she studies herself. The white, see through, dress is more like a toga than anything, barely covering her breasts and falling to her knees in the front, the back falling further to her ankles and twirling upwards as she studies her new body.

After a moment she stops, pink eyes find him. He tilts her head, waiting.

He needs to give her a name, he realizes. But the words are trapped in his throat, unable to escape as he stares at her.

That’s his daughter, he thinks. His and Yusaku’s. He made her. 

It takes a few more moments for him to compose himself, and he still hasn’t quite recovered, his voice coming out slightly mystified as he speaks, “I am Kogami Ryouken, your creator, and I bequeath you the name...Pandor.”

The spirit, his daughter, _Pandor_ , tilts her head again. She speaks, voice soft and cool, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Zaizen steps forward, gaze rolling over Pandor. The brown haired girl bows her head, giving a quick curtsy, “Welcome to the world, Pandor, I am Zaizen Aoi. I hope we can get along.”

Pandor watches her closely, studying the moment before grabbing the bits of the longer piece of her dress, copying it, “I as well.”

She has manners. He wonders if she got that from him. Probably, his father drilled that into him long, long, ago. Taking another breath, he tries to speak again, but he can’t. So he just...watches, observing the newborn spirit and Zaizen quietly as the exchange pleasantries for a few moments.

It takes a few minutes of pleasant conversation before he can regain his voice, and he...is more business like then he would like as he grabs her attention, “We need you to cover our presence into the forest, do you understand? It’s the only way we’ll save Yusaku.”

Her attention snaps to him, pink eyes blinking. She tilts her head again, processing what he said. She straightens her back, standing prim and proper, “If that is what you wish. But, if I may ask, what will you do once you have him?”

Run.

Run far, far, away. Somewhere the forest would never reach them. Heartland, Neo-Domino, Shibuya, Egypt. She doesn’t care at this point. “We’ll see if we survive that long first.”

Pandor frowns, but otherwise just nods her head, not fighting back, “I will do anything I can to help you for however long I can. I will assure your survival.”

He hummed.

The tri-haired spirit bows her head, holding out her hands. Her magic is it’s own waifish thing, not like his, not like Yusaku’s, something different. But he can still feel the parts of it that tie her to him as she washes magic over him and Zaizen. He swallows another thick lump as it settles over his skin, covering him like a blanket.

Pandor drops her hands, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze again. She needs to peek through her long hair, and her lips pressed together in a thin line for a moment before she speaks, “And Yusaku...they are…?”

“Your other creator, yes.” Ryouken nods, hands flicking at his sides.

“I see…” She turns, looking into the forest, her pink eyes scanning the area. Then she turns back to him and Zaizen, nodding, “I can lead you to them. Please, follow me.”

Zaizen nods, following her toward the wall, looking up at the large cracks that would be their entrance. 

Well, this was the last chance he had to say something emotional and meaningful, “...Pandor...wait.”

The spirit stops, turning back to him, tilting her head curiously again. He coughs into his fist again, walking up to her and shedding his coat. Without another word he places it around her shoulders, patting her on the back as he hides her too exposed shoulder, “It’s cold.”

Pandor stops, hands going up to pull the jacket more tightly around herself, looking pleasantly surprised, “Oh, thank you, that is very thoughtful.”

He has an actual gift for her, one for if the spirit had been born a boy and another for if it was a girl. Her hair pin is in his bedroom, trapped in his bedside drawer. Wisteria shaped, because that’s what she is, a spirit of a wisteria tree. But this would have to do. 

Without another word he turns to face the forest, “I’m ready.”

Zaizen makes a noise, rushing to stand beside Pandor, taking her hand and squeezing, giving her own determined nod. “I am too.”

“Then let us depart.” Pandor nods, adjusting the jacket one last time before leading them beyond the crack in the wall, where the forest lays.

Behind them the wisteria petals fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, real life has been kicking my ass lately. Happy October though!
> 
> Anyway, Queen vs a prostitute. Who will win? Well, Queen, but that prostitute sure as hell tried. Poor Mei. You're the hero we don't deserve. 
> 
> But yeah, Ryouken is too pissed to care. So is Aoi. So they decided to ride and die together on a suicidal mission to rescue their soulmates. 
> 
> Anyway, hi Pandor! Welcome to the world!


End file.
